This Heart Never Seemed So Alive
by Mystic Lady Fae
Summary: Marie Daae accompanies her little sister, Christine, to the Opera House after their father dies. She doesn't believe in the Phantom, but both her and the Ghost are in for a surprise...pre & during film, possibly M later on.
1. Life Before the Opera House

Disclaimer: The sexy Erik/Phantom is not mine, though I tried (and failed) to go back in time and get him.

AN: This is my first Phantom fic, so please be kind if something seems out of place or wrong. No, I haven't read the book or seen the Broadway musical; I'm totally going with my creative imagination, one viewing of the film, hundreds of fan fiction stories, and countless hours of listening to Gerard Butler sing on the soundtrack, so if I get something wrong, don't be afraid to tell me! Otherwise, I hope that you enjoy this and will review! Many thanks!

**Chapter 1: Life Before the Opera House**:

A chill wind blew through the small English village overlooking the sea, stealing the breath of those unfortunate enough as to have been caught out of doors on this horrible gray day. As Gustave Daae prepared his violin, he glanced over at this lovely wife, Laurette, who sat by the fireplace, stitching a hole in one of his shirts. His pale blue-gray eyes watched as her fingers nimbly worked the needle, seeming to magically cause the hole in his shirt's sleeve to vanish before his eyes. Oh, how he wished she were sewing something far smaller and more darling than his baggy shirt. He sighed.

"Merely sighing will bring you nothing," Laurette's soft voice whispered into the warm air of the small room. "Just be thankful that we have a comfortable inn to stay at on a day like this. It would cause serious harm to your violin, should you be caught traveling to London in weather like this!"

Gustave couldn't help but smile; his lovely wife always had a pleasant way of chiding him, and it warmed his heart. Instead of replying, though, he began to play, watching as the firelight glinted on Laurette's golden-blonde hair and made her blue eyes sparkle in a way that seemed to keep time with his music. Perhaps it was because of that sparkle in her eyes that he had married her…well, that and the fact that her bright smile could make his violin bow stop in midair while he was playing.

Tearing his eyes away from the pleasant sight, he turned his thoughts to his music. Unknowingly, he had begun to play a lullaby for babies and little children. He saw Laurette stop in her sewing and sigh as well, her eyes turning misty as she set aside her task on a nearby table and stood. Ever so softly, she made her way to his side and knelt in front of his knees, the sad, tearful look in her eyes causing to stop his playing, the violin bow dropping from the strings and into his lap.

A sudden knock on the door prevented the moment from becoming too much to bear. Gustave heaved a silent sigh of relief as he handed Laurette his instrument and went to see who could be knocking at this hour. They were comfortably situated in a private little cottage separate from the inn, so anyone who would try to visit the Daae's was in for a very cold wait in the oncoming darkness of the night.

Bracing himself for the wave of cold evening air, Gustave opened the door and was puzzled to see no one there. A small shuffling noise drew his gaze downwards to a carefully wrapped bundle in blue blankets, set comfortably in a large whicker basket. Thinking that someone had left a litter of kittens on his doorstep, Gustave shrugged and picked the bundle up, carrying it inside to his wife. Be it a litter of kittens or puppies, they would not go hungry under _his_ roof! Laurette had a soft spot for animals of all kinds, though baby creatures were of a particular favorite of hers.

Setting the basket on the rug in front of the fire, he watched as his wife began to unwrap the slightly damp blanket, smiling as she did so with a look of eagerness in her eyes. Ah, well…if they could not have a child of their own, at least they could care for little animals that had been abandoned by those who did not want them. As a corner of the blanket fell away, Gustave heard his wife give a small cry of joy the likes of which he hadn't heard since the day he had proposed to her.

"Gustave!" she gasped, reaching into the basket and fully unwrapping its precious contents. "Oh, my love, look!"

Gustave Daae could not reply as he stared at the small being…the small baby girl gazing up at him with lovely, dark brown eyes.

* * *

_Five Years Later: Sweden_: 

Marie playfully skipped beside her father, a cheerful smile on her lips as she did so. The two had been walking laps around their music room for the past hour, and Marie was beginning to get tired. Her loving Mama was elsewhere, a place that Marie was not allowed to go, so she had been forced to stay downstairs in the music room with her Papa as he continuously drove her mad with his walking, his impatiently running his fingers through his thick, dark hair.

"Papa!" she cried excitedly, her voice stopping her father in his tracks as he turned to look at her. "When will my brother or sister be here?"

Gustave could only smile at the eager little girl. It had been over five years since he and Laurette had taken Marie as their daughter, and now they were about to have a little babe of their very own! Marie had been ecstatic when they had told her that she would have a sibling to play with; her deep-brown eyes had lit up and her equally dark brown hair had trailed behind her as she rushed about, cheering and laughing with happiness. Marie may not have been their blood, but to the Daae's, she _was_ their child, and would always remain so.

"Soon, petite," he said, stooping down and sweeping the little girl up in his arms.

Over the years, his precious little Marie had developed the uncanny ability to distract someone from their troubles by merely looking at them with her curious brown eyes and asking a simple question or two. Laurette had found her invaluable while taking afternoon tea with the wives of Gustave's admirers; whenever they asked Madame Daae a question that she was unable to answer or felt uncomfortable about, Marie would merely make an innocent comment or question about one of the women's dresses and receive coos of praise for her remarks.

'_And now here she is_, _calming down her expectant Papa_,' he thought, sitting down on the rug near the fireplace and placing Marie in his lap, crooning her a song as they continued their wait.

It was near dawn the next morning when Gustave saw the midwife enter the room, a large smile on her face as she approached him and the now-sleeping Marie.

"Congratulations, Monsieur, you have a baby girl," she said, looking down at the dozing child in his lap. "Your wife is resting, but you are free to visit her and the babe, if you wish."

Gustave leapt off the floor and headed upstairs, gently shaking his daughter awake as he did so. Marie blinked and rubbed her eyes as the two entered the master bedroom. There Laurette lay, her blue eyes sparkling as she motioned for her husband to put Marie on the bed. A small wiggling bundle lay in her arms, and Marie carefully crawled over to get a good look at the tiny person.

"She's pretty," the little girl stated. "Her eyes are gray like Papa's, and her hair is dark like his and mine!"

Laurette laughed. "That's right," she said, reaching over with her free hand and running her fingers through her eldest daughter's straight hair. "This is your little sister Christine, and you must always take care of her, no matter what, understand? Since you are her elder sister, you must be sure that you set a good example for her to follow." Marie nodded and went back to staring at the small baby.

"There's a good girl," her father replied, reaching over to wrap his three ladies in a gentle family hug.

* * *

_A Year Later:_

"Come on, Christine, you can do it!" Marie cried, her hands held out. Little Christine merely smiled at her older sister and gave a loud giggle as she began to stand up.

For the past several weeks, Gustave and Laurette had tried, without success, to get Christine to walk instead of crawl. However, it was only Marie who could somehow manage to persuade the tiny toddler to stand up on her own legs. The two parents proudly watched their girls as Christine stood up and began to test her right foot, tapping it up and down in an experimental manner.

Marie suddenly gave a small cooing sound, and Christine instantly looked at her. Wiggling her fingers at the smaller girl, Marie moved backwards, hoping to coax at least a step or two out of the baby. Innocent, trusting gray eyes focused on the older girl as a small foot moved forwards. Marie held her breath as Christine began to shift her weight forward, moving towards her goal. The entire family watched breathlessly as one step became two, and two became three. Finally, Christine collapsed in a fit of giggles in her older sister's lap, Marie wrapping her arms around her little sister and crowing compliments the whole time.

Gustave watched as Laurette began to cough into her handkerchief. The winter had not been good to her, and what had at first been dubbed a cold was now mercilessly wearing away at his lovely wife's health. They both knew that, if she had not improved by now, she likely never would. It broke his heart to watch his beloved sicken this way, but there was nothing the doctors could do for her. As they exchanged sad smiles, they both shared a bittersweet contentment in knowing that she had at least seen their precious daughters learn to walk in her presence. Reaching out, Gustave took her hand in his, knowing that this would be one of the last happy evenings he could spend with her as a family.

She would not live past the first of the New Year.

* * *

"Marie!" Christine crowed as she raced towards her older sister, laughing as she was caught up in a tremendous hug. 

"Goodness, Chrissie, I was only at the market for a little while!" twelve-year-old girl laughingly replied, pulling a wisp of her straight brown hair out of her equally brown eyes.

Christine looked up at her with adoration, joy, and excitement. "Will you come and play with me?" she asked, hope flashing in her gray eyes. "Papa says he's too tired."

Ever since their mother had died, Marie had quickly stepped into the roll of both mother and older sister for Christine, doing everything she could by fulfilling the promise she had made her mother when Christine had been born. She make sure that they both ate, slept, and bathed, and kept quiet when their father needed to practice his violin. Recently, she had taken to doing their shopping, since their father was far too busy to do it himself.

"Of course I'll play with you!" Marie said, smiling as they moved towards the kitchen so that she could put away the food she had bought. "Why don't you go get your toys ready and I'll be in there in a moment?" Christine gave her a lovely smile before racing off, her brown curls bouncing as she skipped away towards the sitting room.

Marie sighed before turning back toward the basket she had carried home. It wasn't right to be envious of her sister, and she knew that, but the only trait they shared was the same pale skin. She so wanted curly hair like Christine's, and was tired of her straight hair that had absolutely nothing interesting about it, as far as she could see. And Christine had such lovely gray eyes, the complete opposite of Marie's dark brown ones. However, Marie loved her little sister too much to _really_ envy her. Besides, there really wasn't anything that she liked more than to take care of Christine.

"Marie, petite, could you come here a moment?" her father's faint voice called.

"Coming, Papa!" She hurriedly put away the bread, butter, and bacon that she had purchased and raced out of the kitchen. On the way to her father's room, Marie poked her head into the sitting room, where Christine sat with two dolls in front of her. "Chrissie, Papa needs me for a moment. I'll return soon to play, all right?"

Christine looked up and gave a bright smile before turning back to her dolls. A slight smile tugging on her own lips, Marie quickly headed towards the back of the small home, towards her father's bedroom. She knocked before quietly slipping inside when he called for her to enter. Her papa sat on the bed, his eyes tired and solemn.

"Come, petite," he said, opening his arms to her. She obeyed and was quickly wrapped in a warm embrace. "You have worked so hard to take care of your sister and me, haven't you? Just as your Mama asked, before the Angels called her home." Marie nodded, and he sighed. "You have not even had much time to play with our dear little Christine, or even be a normal little girl, as I would like you to be. Therefore, I have summoned an old friend of mine to come and help take care of you for a little while."

Marie sharply turned her head towards him. "Who?" she asked, not liking the idea of a stranger coming into their house.

She'd heard from some little girls in the market that when lonely fathers invited 'old friends' who happened to be women to help with their motherless children, they usually meant to marry them later on. Marie would _not_ let a stranger 'help' her with Christine, no matter what. This woman would not be allowed to lay one finger on her precious sister.

"She is a woman from France that I met long ago, when I first met your mother," he said, smiling at the obvious jealousy and anger on his eldest daughter's face. "Her name is Madame Giry, and she has a daughter about Christine's age named Meg. Her daughter will stay behind in France with a friend, but Madame Giry will be here to help you with the cooking and things for a while…"

Looking up into her father's tired gray eyes, Marie didn't understand why he suddenly looked so sad. "Papa, is everything alright?" she asked, raising a hand to caress his left cheek.

He smiled down at her. "I'm fine, petite," he whispered, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "Our guest and helper should be arriving tomorrow, so you must help prepare the house for her arrival."

Marie sighed and went to give Christine the unhappy news of not being able to play together tonight.

* * *

Despite wanting to dislike the woman who was to invade her house, Marie couldn't help but like her the moment she stepped foot though the doors. 

Madame Giry was a tall, slender woman who possessed a well-aging beauty on her serious face. In one hand she carried a carpetbag full of clothes, and in her other, she held a cane made of black wood and was adorned with an ivory handle. However, Marie instantly looked past the severe exterior and saw a good woman beneath it. Her eyes, though serious, held a sort of gentleness to them, and the corners of her mouth showed that it was no stranger to a smile. So, after opening the door, escorting and assisting in Mme. Giry settling into her room, Marie threw her arms around the woman's waist and gave her a tight hug.

The woman had been surprised, to say the least, but had let out a small chuckle as she returned the affectionate gesture. The two had then begun to talk about things over a cup of tea in the sitting room, watching as Christine played with her dolls and sang to them in her soft, off-key voice that was almost charming. Once the tea dishes were put away, Madame Giry had gone upstairs to check on their father as Marie stayed behind to play with Christine.

The four of them got along well together, though Christine was particularly thrilled to have her sister play with her more often, now that Madame had taken over the cooking, cleaning, and shopping. However, Marie noticed that her father spent more and more time in bed, his once-healthy face becoming as pale as new snow. It was then that she realized that she would lose her father the same way that she and Christine had lost their mother all those years ago. Still, the elder girl said nothing and did her best to keep Christine from discovering the unhappy truth about their beloved father.

But however hard one might try to hide something from a small child, it is impossible to do so for very long. Little children can be remarkably observant, and after Madame Giry had been with the Daae family for two weeks, it was clear that Christine knew that something was not right with her father's health. Since she knew her sister better than anyone, Marie saw the frightened look upon Christine's face after she'd visited their father at his sick bed and knew that she could no longer keep their father's condition a secret. Taking her little sister to their small nursery, Marie sat her down and began to explain something that Madame Giry had told her only a day or two before.

"Chrissie, there's something I need to tell you," the older girl said, quickly gaining the smaller girl's attention. "Papa is very sick, and soon he's going to be taken by the Angels to join Mama in Heaven."

Christine looked horrified. She hadn't known her mother, couldn't even remember the lovely woman who had loved her so dearly, but she remembered how sad her papa had been, every time he spoke about her. And now she was going to lose the only other member of the family that she had left.

"But who will take care of me?" the little seven-year-old asked, her eyes filling with tears.

Marie smiled and wrapped her arms around her sister. "I'll take care of you, Christine," she said, holding her close. "I promise."

Christine merely sniffed and hugged her back.

* * *

As Marie led Christine to see their fading Papa, she suddenly felt a huge burden being placed on her shoulders. When Mama had died, their father had always been there to provide love and comfort to the two girls. Now, with Papa soon to join their mother, there would only be Marie left to be sure that Christine had all of the love and happiness that she needed. 

At first, Marie had thought that Madame Giry would help take care of them. However, she knew that the older woman had to largely divide her attention between Meg and the ballet students that she taught in Paris. Once their beloved Papa was dead, there would be no one to take care of the Daae girls specifically; they would merely have to be satisfied with what attention and love they could get from whenever Madame Giry could spare it, and from each other. Sighing, Marie did her best to focus on what her father was saying to Christine.

"Do not worry, petite," he whispered, his gray eyes soft as he looked at his youngest child. "Marie will take good care of you; she loves you so." He smiled as Christine gave a small sniff. "When I arrive in Heaven, I will send the Angel of Music to come and visit you, and to guide you though your tears."

Marie felt that was a bit unfair, since Papa was practically stating that her love and care would not be enough for her little sister. Still, it was most likely what Christine needed to hear, so she merely put her hands on Christine's shoulders and looked over the brown, curly hair mass in front of her to her father. After he had finished giving Christine a farewell kiss on the hand, his eyes turned towards Marie.

"My darling little lady," he said, his voice much weaker than before. "You know how I love you, and how proud I am that you have taken such good care of your sister." Marie nodded. "When I am gone, you must take even greater of her, because she looks to you for guidance more than any other." He looked deep into her deep brown eyes. "Promise me, petite."

"I promise, Papa," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears as her father gave her one last smile before closing his eyes forever.

* * *

Christine did not let go of her sister's hand once since the moment Gustave Daae had taken his final breath in front of the girls. During the entire preparation process and the voyage to Paris itself, Christine had latched on to Marie's side and refused to spend more than a few minutes out of her company. The little seven-year-old appeared to be terrified at what might happen, now that her Papa was no longer there. However, Marie dutifully sat next to her, crooning soothing words into her ear and squeezing her hand as the train rolled through the countryside. 

Madame Antoinette Giry sat across from them, her eyes focused on Marie and the attention she was lavishing on the unusually quiet Christine. The ballet mistress of the Opera Populaire had been astonished to see a girl so young take care of a child who had to be at least five years her junior. In his urgent letter to her, Gustave had told of Marie taking on the roll of both mother and sister since his dear Laurette had died, but Antoinette hadn't believed it. True, Marie was older than both Meg and Christine, but she was still a girl-child of only twelve.

'_And yet_, _when she first opened that door for me_, _the air about her was that of the oldest twelve-year-old girl I had ever seen_,' she thought, watching the two girls play a small, hand-slapping game. But perhaps the two girls would fit in well at the Populaire. They might even be in the _corps de ballet_, and even if they weren't able to dance, Madame Giry felt confident that she would find a way to keep the two together and in the Opera House as long as she could.

As the train pulled into the station, Christine stopped playing and a terrified look settled on her face, her small, pale hand clutching at her sister's as she looked up into Marie's brown eyes. The older girl merely smiled and hugged her until Christine managed to calm down.

'_Yes_, _they will fit in quite well_ _if Marie and I have anything to say about it_,' Madame Giry thought as they walked off the train and into the streets of Paris.

* * *

AN: Well, that was my first attempt at a Phantom story chapter! Please be kind and review, even if it's to let me know that I got something wrong or if you thought the chapter was choppy or something! Thanks! 


	2. A Whole New Life

Disclaimer: I tried to lure the Phantom out of his home and into mine, but he's refused…so far...

AN: Wow, I love reviewers, they so totally rock! A big general shout-out to those who reviewed! Anyway, here is chapter two. I'm afraid the Phantom doesn't really show up a lot until chapter four, so please don't hate me! He's there a little bit for now, but will appear in great amounts as the story moves forward. Happy reading!

**Chapter 2: A Whole New Life**:

Their first glance at the Opera Populaire was that of great awe. Well, it was awe for Marie; for Christine, it was a rather frightening sight, and she tightly held her sister's hand in a death-grip as the two approached the large structure.

The building was made up of a rather dull rock, but it was tremendous, going up and into the heavens, the angels decorating the exterior seeming to hold it up and carry it on wings of elegantly crafted stone. There were huge pillars and stunning statues of muses and gods from the mythology books that Marie now carried in her luggage. It was an impressive sight, and the colorful banners that hung from between the pillars and statues gave it a touch of blazing color

Feeling the tight grip on her hand, Marie looked down at her sister. Christine's eyes were wide with fright, and the older girl carefully pried her hand loose and wrapped it around the younger girl's shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. Christine looked up at her, a small wisp of a smile pulling at her lips before fading into nothing. Marie gave her an encouraging smile before once again focusing on keeping up with the ballet mistress walking in front of them.

As they approached the front steps of the Opera House, Christine quickly snuggled into her sister's side, trying to hide from the strangers that turned to look at them as Madame Giry led the Daae sisters through the halls of the large structure. Walking through the numerous passageways, Marie saw dancers, singers, stagehands, and every other sort of person needed to put on a successful opera. She saw beautifully painted backgrounds, costumes constructed of glimmering fabrics, and a thousand different crafted props that were just waiting to be used.

The squeeze of an arm around her waist suggested that perhaps Christine was not as impressed with the sights as her sister was, so Marie stopped paying attention to the beauty around her and focused on comforting her younger sister. Christine gave her a thankful look before hugging her once more.

A few moments later, the two were ushered towards a small wing of rooms that seemed to be set aside only for Madame Giry's use. It was a suite of rooms, actually, and Marie couldn't help but wonder who could possibly need so much space. The first two doors on the right, Madame explained, was her own room and the bathing room attached to it, just in case the two girls needed her. Meg's room was at the end hallway of the small wing, on the opposite side of Madame's bathing room.

"The room next to Meg's is the sitting room where she and I go after rehearsals," Madame explained as she led them to the two doors on the left. "These shall be your rooms. Meg and I share a bathing room, but there is one down another hallway the two of you alone shall share. Someone will bring your luggage shortly, so you are free to choose where you will sleep and explore them a bit." She smiled kindly at the two girls. "I hope that the two of you will be very comfortable here."

Marie could only nod her head before escorting Christine into one of the rooms. It was actually two small, simply decorated rooms. This room was a sort of relaxation room that held three overly stuffed chairs with blue cushions around a broad, oval table that was obviously supposed to be used as a serving table for tea or even a small dinner or snack. There were two small decorative tables with blue-and-silver vases in the far corners, giving the room a simple, but elegant, air. There was a door on the left, which the two sisters went through to explore what it was exactly.

It was a small bedroom with a bed on the far wall directly opposite the doorway, simple sheets of white and blue covering it. On the right of the door there was a dressing table made of dark wood with a mirror set on it, and a matching armless chair in front of it. There was a desk on the right-hand wall, and a large dresser on the left wall. It all seemed a bit much for a little girl to have, but Marie found it to be comfortable, and wished to have this set of rooms as her own. However, if Christine saw the other rooms and wanted _this_ set, she had no trouble with surrendering it to her younger sister.

The two then turned to the set of rooms that stood next door, the closest to the hallway of the Opera House. This one was laid out as a mirror image of the neighboring room, set out exactly the same way but with a golden-brown as the color theme. Christine's eyes lit up at the pretty room, and Marie knew that she was to get the set of rooms that she wanted.

After the luggage had been brought in from the train station, and when the last piece of clothing had been stored away, Meg Giry entered Marie's sitting room in an attempt to offer a tour of the Opera House. Marie quickly agreed, and the two Daae sisters were soon being given all sorts of information about the Populaire and its history. Only half listening to Meg's pleasant (but constant) chatter, Marie did her best to get Christine to come out of the shell that she seemed to have built around herself.

Finally, as Meg babbled on and on, Christine seemed to find the ability to open up and ask a few questions about decorations, the stage, and the costumes. Meg answered all of their questions, adding on bits and pieces of information that, in Marie's mind, didn't really have anything to do with that she had been asked, but might be useful later on. Still, the tiny blond girl was friendly and energetic, and Christine seemed to like her a great deal, so Marie put up with it, if only for her sister's sake.

The tour ended at the Opera House's chapel, a rather dusty and run-down place that had a large, colorful stained glass window on the far left wall. Marie looked around it carefully as Meg explained that the reason it was far less looked after was that few of the people in the Opera House took the place (as well as their personal religion) seriously. In Marie's mind, it was rather sad, but the chapel would likely serve her well in her little plan to help Christine through this difficult time in their lives.

Reaching into her dress pocket, Marie removed a portrait of their father and placed it on the wall, by the candles that could be lit in remembrance of departed loved ones. Madame Giry had discovered the photo among her father's belongings, and felt that he would have wanted his daughters to have it. Christine watched her sister with loving eyes as Marie lit a candle and whispered a few comforting words to her father's spirit in Heaven. With that done, the three young girls left the chapel and headed back to their rooms for a good night's rest.

* * *

From a space hidden above the small chapel, a shadow watched the little girls depart. The blond, Meg Giry, was of no consequence; he had seen her before and thought her to be too much of a chatterbox. The other two, however, caught his interest. From the rumors going about the Opera House, the two were apparently orphaned sisters, the daughters of a dear friend of Madame Giry's, which was why the ballet mistress had left in such a sudden rush over a month before.

Curiously, the two girls didn't look much alike. Both had brown hair, but the youngest had curls while the elder had straight locks. The older girl must have been five years older, her solemn eyes like chocolate and her skin appearing to have a faint golden tinge. Meanwhile, the younger had wide gray-blue orbs and glowing pale skin, nothing at all like that of her 'older sister.' Judging from the close bond the two shared, the eldest had to have been adopted and had helped raise the younger girl.

'_Interesting_,' he thought, shifting to another spot to see what the eldest girl had put along the wall. There stood a portrait of a man, right behind the candles of remembrance. '_They must have the intent of returning here frequently to remember their dead father. Better and better_.'

With a swish of his cape, the Phantom of the Opera disappeared into the depths of the Opera House.

* * *

The next morning, after a good breakfast of croissants, butter, jam, and milk that Meg had brought them, Marie took her sister to find out what she and Christine would be doing for work here in the Opera Populaire. She knew that _everyone_ did something to earn their keep: the dancers danced, the painters painted, etc, but what two little girls could do was beyond her, so she decided to press the question to Madame Giry before the woman left to teach the _petite corps de ballet._

Meg was conveniently on her way to the dancers' practice rooms, so Marie followed her. Christine trailed behind, her eyes glancing around at everything as her older sister led her. It was a fairly long walk, but both girls enjoyed watching all of the different people going about their tasks as she walked behind the tiny blond dancer.

Before she knew it, Meg had led Marie into the practice room and left her on her own as the blond took her spot on the floor. As she turned around to search for Madame, she bumped directly into the woman she was looking for. Madame Giry looked down at her with kind, but impatient, eyes, but said nothing; she clearly expected Marie to address her first.

Marie gave a small curtsey before speaking. "I was wondering what you had in mind for me and my sister, Madame," she said in a polite voice. Her father had always told her to respect her elders.

Madame merely smiled. "I would like for Christine to become part of the ballet, if you wouldn't mind," she answered, looking at the seven-year-old. "However, Marie, I'm afraid you would be far too old to join. There is a certain age limit where lessons in dancing would do you no good, and I'm afraid that you have passed it." There was a sad look in Madame's face, but Marie only smiled.

"That's alright," she said, a grin spreading across her face. "I'm very clumsy anyway, and I would not want to embarrass your dancers by joining."

Madame gave her a startled look before letting out a small laugh. "Well, then, I suppose that I will have to ask that you become my little assistant, then," she said, giving Marie a fond smile. "You will help make sure that the little dancers are properly dressed and positioned, for they are not as well-learned in dancing as the older groups I teach. Also, you will run whatever errands that I, or anyone else at the Populaire, send you on. I will also send you to assist the costume mistresses whenever the time for a performance draws near, for they are always in need of help. Would that suit you?"

Marie smiled. "That would suit me very well, Madame."

* * *

And so began life for the Daae girls at the Opera Populaire. Christine was fitted for several dance outfits to practice in, as well as shoes to dance in for both classes and performances (though it was doubtful that she would ever be ready in time for the more recent operas). She was not very graceful at first, but Madame believed that she would still be at least a fair dancer, and would not embarrass the Populaire in any way.

Marie worked hard as Madame Giry's assistant with the littler dancers, learning exactly what poses and positions the ballet mistress expected from her performers and helping to put the girls into them. It was a bit difficult, since Marie didn't know how to dance them herself, but she had a good eye and she put it to good use in setting the leg, arm, foot, and head positions.

To the amazement of the managers, Marie's gentle, but firm, touch forced the girls to do their best, and caused the _petite corps de ballet_ to learn their moves faster than they ever had before. Although the little dancers were only used when children were needed in scenes, they were in training to someday replace the older dancers when the ballerinas retired or left the Opera House. With Marie helping, they were learning to be the best they could possibly be.

However, helping the dancers was only a small part of the day. Madame Giry had several other groups to teach, and they were much more advanced than the one Marie helped, so she'd been obliged to find other work to do. Marie was, to say the least, sadly lacking in any sort of artistic talents. She could not paint, except for the basic things like pushing paint around until it covered the desired surface. Her father had not had the chance to teach her how to play an instrument, and there was no one in the Opera House who was willing to do it, either. And her singing…well, it was best that she just didn't do it.

In the end, Marie's main duty was to help with the construction of the opera costumes. She didn't mind that, since she absolutely loved the elaborate stitching, designs, and beauty of the existing outfits that she had seen, and watching the clothing be put together was an absolute delight for her. The costume mistresses were more than happy to have her join them, even though Marie couldn't really sew that well as of yet. However, with the amount of practice they gave her, she was soon happily situated and seemed to have found her calling in the Opera House.

The months passed quickly for Marie and Christine. Although Madame Giry did her best to look after them as much as she did her own daughter, there just weren't enough hours in the day for her to do so. Instead, Marie happily once again slipped into the rolls of both mother and sister for Christine, and so it was often Marie who found out the troubles and worries of her sister before anyone else did. At night, it was Marie who found her way into Christine's room whenever the younger girl called out for her during her nightmares, and it was Marie who tucked her in, told her stories, and delivered cold water whenever her sister was thirsty in the middle of the night.

All this she bore willingly, despite how irritating it could be after a certain time, but did it she did. It was her promise to both her Mama and her Papa that drove her, the promise to always look after her little sister and set a good example for Christine to follow. It was a very great responsibility, as well as a heavy one, but it gave Marie great pleasure to be the first person her sister confided in and the first she went to in order to get advice. Besides, if Marie couldn't answer something or was having difficulty dealing with one of Christine's problems, she could always appeal to Madame Giry.

One such troubling incident occurred after the Daaes' third month at the Opera House. Christine, though still somewhat unhappy with their move to Paris, was doing well in her dances, and Marie was fitting in well with the costume mistresses. Life had settled into a somewhat comfortable situation for them both. Just as Marie felt that Christine was beginning to get past their father's death, the little girl announced something rather disturbing just as Marie was about to send her off to bed.

The two sisters had a nightly ritual of gathering in Marie's room for some warm milk before going to sleep. On this particular night, Christine, who had been unusually excited and full of energy, had finished her milk before her sister and was fidgeting in her chair. Marie was just finishing the last bit of milk in her mug when Christine opened her mouth.

"Marie, the Angel of Music visited me today in the chapel!" she cried, bouncing in her chair.

Marie's hand froze in midair, the cup of milk halfway to her lips. Fearing that she just might drop it, she set it down on the table and looked at her sister.

"What did you say?" she asked, slowly, as though she hadn't heard correctly.

"I said the Angel of Music visited me today in the chapel, just as I was lighting a candle for Papa!" Christine said, a happy smile on her face. "Papa had said that he would come and visit me, and he did! The Angel told me to not be sad, because he would always be here to take care of me!"

Marie began to nibble on her bottom lip, something she did whenever she was deep in thought or upset. Tonight, she was both. Could there actually be an Angel looking after her sister, or was Christine imagining the whole thing? She was sure that, if there _was_ an Angel sent down by their father, it would have visited her, too…wouldn't it? After all, Papa had loved her, too, so why did Christine suddenly hear Angels and not Marie?

'_Well_, _Christine can't be mad_, _or else this would have started immediately after Papa died_,' Marie quickly reasoned within her head. '_This must be her imagination_. _Her imagination must be her way of getting through Papa's death. After all, there must be some other children who need Angels more than Christine or I do_. _Yes, that must be it_.' Marie looked up and smiled at her sister. '_I suppose I might as well go along with it, if only to humor Christine_.'

"That's wonderful, Chrissie!" she exclaimed. "I'm sure that the Angel will be able to help you and be with you whenever you need him. But let us keep this between us, hmm? After all, I think it sounds like something that should only be kept in the family, don't you?"

Christine only smiled before leaping out of her chair and kissing her sister goodnight. As the last stray curl of her hair disappeared out the door, Marie could only think about what she had gotten herself into with this piece of make-believe.

* * *

The next morning, Marie kept to herself, thinking about the previous night. She felt so guilty helping her sister with this fantasy, but there was no way for her to get out of it. In her mind, she knew that if she destroyed this illusion for Christine, it would only break the little girl's heart, shattering it beyond repair. There was no possible way she was going to do that to her beloved sister, and so she must keep her mouth shut and go on with her life, pretending along with Christine that the Angel of Music was real and that he was, in fact, helping Christine through this difficult time.

Marie had wanted to keep herself busy and her mind away from all thoughts of Christine's angel, but it was impossible. The latest opera was to be performed tonight, so there was nothing to be done. The costumes were ready, the dancers were ready, everything was ready for the performance, and there was nothing for the little ballet assistant and costume helper to do that evening. She wasn't really interested in opera in the first place, so she thought that she might as well go and check up on the _petite corps de ballet_.

The little dancers would not be in tonight's opera, and had been ordered to remain in their dormitory for the night; they could talk, laugh, or do whatever they pleased, as long as they remained _in_ _the_ _dormitory_. Christine was part of that group, but Marie was considered old enough to be allowed to wander the Opera House as she pleased. So, after having a nice dinner alone in her room, she walked over to the dancers' quarters for some company.

As Marie quietly slipped in through the door, she was surprised to find Meg and Christine in a far corner, whispering and giggling a few other girls who sat in a circle, doing one another's hair in braids and elaborate twists. Happy that Christine had found a few friends among the other dancers, Marie began going through the room, smiling at those she considered friends and nodding to those that she wasn't so sure about. She caught the edges of conversations that did not interest her, mostly about clothes and hair, but one small group, led by the little Sorelli, caught and held her attention. The girl was Christine's age, but was tiny, with pale blond hair and sharp blue eyes. It was said that she was the greatest talent in the _petite corps de ballet,_ and that Madame Giry had high hopes for her.

"I heard the older dancers talk about the ghost that haunts the Opera House!" Sorelli whispered in a frightened voice. "They say that he can walk through walls, causing trouble as he goes. The Ghost is always in black so that he may not be seen until it is too late, when he is right behind you so that he may do some sort of harm to those who displease him!"

Marie rolled her eyes, but kept silent. There was a _ghost_ in the Opera House? She highly doubted it, but she enjoyed a good story as much as the next person, so she kept silent and listened to what was being said about the so-called Opera Ghost.

"They say that he has eyes that burn like fire, and that he knows everything that goes on within these walls," Sorelli went on, keeping the attention of her audience. "Even the managers are afraid of him, so they pay him a great deal of money to try and prevent him from causing mischief during rehearsals and performances!"

"Why would a ghost need money?" Marie asked before she could stop herself.

Sorelli snorted, sounding as if Marie's question had been the stupidest thing she had ever heard. "He doesn't," she said. "But I heard the older dancers say that he practically _orders_ the managers to pay him, in order to keep them in line."

"Well, what does the Ghost look like?" the older girl challenged. Considering that she was at least five years older than the girls, Marie assumed that, at age twelve, she knew better than they did.

"None know for sure, for he is able to bend and control the light and shadows around him," Sorelli whispered, as though the Ghost could hear her. "He also wears a mask over his face so that none can see the terror that is beneath, unless he wishes them to die from fear."

Marie had heard enough and turned to leave. Instead of staying in the dorms with Christine, she headed towards her room. Madame Giry would take Christine to her own bedroom without any trouble, so there was one less thing to worry about. Besides, spending more time listening about another spirit would have driven her mad.

"I do not believe in ghosts," she stated to the emptiness of her room. "Angels are all well and good, but to believe in ghosts is silly." Quickly changing into her nightgown, Marie opened up a book and settled down to read, her eyes eventually drifting shut from exhaustion.

* * *

Quietly sneaking though the secret doorway, he glided up to the little girl's side, thinking of how charming she looked when she was asleep. Carefully pulling her book from her hands, he marked her page before setting it aside and sliding the covers up to her chin. Gently patting her on the head, he whispered a 'goodnight and pleasant dreams' before slipping back though the hidden door and heading for his home beneath the Opera House.

* * *

AN: I know, I know, not a lot of Erik so far, but at least I put him in there for a little bit! He'll show up more as the story progresses, because it wouldn't be a Phantom story without him! Please review and let me know how this story is going…I'm dying to know! 


	3. Life Moves Forward

Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did, the Phantom does not belong to me…

AN: Here is chapter three! There's a bit more of our beloved Erik, but he's not really revealing himself just yet, so you'll have to wait for the fourth chapter, when things start to get very interesting! Happy reading, and please leave a review to let me know how I'm doing! Thanks!

**Chapter 3: Life Moves Forward:**

Talks about the Opera Ghost and Christine's Angel of Music did not cease once during the passage of time. In the years that she had been at the Opera House, not one day went by without her hearing about one thing about either one of the mysterious apparitions. Christine, of course, informed her sister about _every single thing_ that happened whenever the Angel visited her, and the ballet rats always chattered some story or another about the Ghost and his tricks.

Normally, Marie was a great lover of the fantastic; she had several story books about fairies, witches, magic, and adventure that she absolutely loved to read before she fell asleep at night, and which kept her imagination going whenever there was a boring moment during her day. She _believed_ in magic and such, but the fact that the Opera Ghost demanded money from the managers suggested that he was a man and not a ghost at all. After all, what did a ghost want with money, if he was indeed a spirit and had no need for possessions? No, he had to be a man that was merely focused on making life difficult by pulling pranks and destroying props whenever he was in a bad mood. Marie left it at that.

Christine's Angel of Music, however, was somewhat of a puzzle for Marie. It wasn't that she didn't believe in angels, it was more of the fact that she didn't believe in _Christine's_ angel. In her mind, Marie pictured an angel coming to children or people who truly needed guidance and love. Christine had Marie, Madame Giry, Meg, and the other ballet dancers as her friends and family, so what need did she have of an Angel of Music when she was anything _but_ needy in the way of love?

To make matters worse, Christine had, after their fifth month in the Opera House, begun to practice singing. Marie had heard her sister's voice piping though the door as she passed and had entered the room to find Christine practicing a few scales. Their father had never taught her to sing like this; they had thrown out their voices in song whenever they pleased, but nothing more than that. So how in the world had Christine been able to find the ability to practice musical scales? When Marie had managed to ask where she was obtaining her lessons, Christine's answer was rather disturbing.

"My Angel of Music comes to me and teaches me," came the innocent answer of a child.

It frightened Marie to no end, thinking that there might be someone posing as an Angel of Music and giving lessons to her sister, but what could she do? She could not keep an eye on Christine every moment of the day, and to keep her locked in her room would be inhumane. Besides, she had never seen Christine so happy after the passing of their father, and the last thing Marie wanted to do was upset her. Furthermore, Christine never seemed to be frightened of her "Angel", so there was nothing that could really justify Marie forbidding her from taking lessons.

After allowing the lessons to continue on for six more months, Marie discovered that Christine had a lovely voice, one that would never have emerged had it not been for this so-called Angel of Music. Such a voice could be developed and enhanced over time, and could even provide a good life here in the Opera House. Singing would also be a wonderful alternative to dancing, for while Christine had a certain grace about her, she tended to be slightly clumsy or nervous while onstage.

So Marie decided to go along with the illusions of her sister, if only to keep her happy. Christine never hid anything from the girl who was both mother and sister to her, and so it was only with Marie that she practiced what she had learned during her singing lessons. Marie had wanted the entire Opera House to know of her sister's talents, but Christine had been adamant that no one know about it except the two of them. The younger girl had claimed that her Angel had forbidden her to speak of him to anyone, but Christine had begged to be able to tell her beloved sister, the one person she loved most in life. The Angel had reluctantly agreed, but had forbidden anyone else from knowing. The fact that this "Angel" had allowed even one other person to know about his existence surprised Marie to no end, and so she thought that perhaps this individual might not be so bad after all.

And so life went on within the realms of the Opera House for Marie, who did her best to stay firmly grounded within a place that was home to both a Ghost and an Angel of Music.

* * *

"Shh!" Sorelli said to the other girls, who had been giggling behind the furniture of the back dressing room. "She's coming, and if you give us away, I'll be sure to tie your ballet ribbons into knots!" 

The other girls stopped and clapped their hands over their mouths. Today was a very special day in the minds of the first and second classes of the _petite corps de ballet_, and they had been planning for this occasion for months. Any moment now their guest of honor would enter though the door of the dressing room, and all of their planning would have been worthwhile. They loved this girl, and would make this a birthday to remember.

Just as the last girl had ducked behind a chair, the door opened and in swept Marie Daae, her little sister practically dragging her into the room.

"Really, Christine, I don't see why you had to drag me practically into the back of the Opera House to show me something," Marie jokingly said. The girls could hear the smile in her voice. "Couldn't you have shown me this in your room, after I was finished with the costume mistresses?"

"No," Christine replied, a giggle in her voice.

"And why is that? Why did you have to bring me into the _petite corps de ballet_ meeting room?"

"SURPRISE!" screamed two dozen girls as they appeared from behind various pieces of furniture. "HAPPY 14th BIRTHDAY, MARIE!"

Marie's eyes filled with tears as she looked around at the girls gathering around her, their hands filled with gifts, small bags of sweets, or glasses of punch. She watched as lanterns and candles were lit so that she could admire the decorating that they had done. The walls were covered in her favorite shades of blue, as were the six tables that were now laden with food and drink. The gifts remained in the hands of the givers, to be handed over when Marie was well situated.

Christine stood beside her older sister, a broad smile on her face as she led Marie to a table to sit down. As soon as Marie was firmly in her chair, everyone pulled up a chair to form a circle, passing around trays of bread and cheese, cookies, and the little cherry tarts that Marie was especially fond of. The girls eagerly attacked the food and punch, causing nearly every delicious crumb to disappear within minutes. Once everyone had had their fill, Meg, Sorelli and Christine gathered the dirty dishes (to later be sent down to the kitchens), and resumed their places so that the giving of presents could proceed.

Marie carefully unwrapped each gift, giving joyous little squeals of delight whenever she saw what lay beneath the paper. They were mostly small trinkets of hair ribbons, lengths of lace to sew onto her clothing, or an occasional coin or two to use to buy herself something the next time Madame Giry took them all to the market. She smiled at each girl and gave them a small peck on the cheek in thanks for the thoughtful gift, most of which had been things that she had longed to buy but had not the money or time to do so.

With the party officially over, several of the girls gathered the dirty dishes and carried them away as others remained behind to clean the floors and tables. The wall hangings would stay up, since it made the room look better to gather in whenever the dancers wanted to meet and trade stories; it was, after all, their own private social gathering place. If the older girls could have their own place to gossip, why couldn't the younger ones?

Meanwhile, Marie headed back to her room with her arms full of her precious birthday gifts, a broad smile on her face.

As Marie tucked away her numerous gifts into various locations in her room, she couldn't keep herself from laughing.

'_So that was what the girls had been hiding for the past several months_?' she thought to herself as she sat down on her bed.

It was no wonder they had immediately stopped their chattering whenever she appeared around the corner, fearful that she had heard them. At first, Marie had been hurt, thinking that they had been ready to spread some sort of rumor about her, but had quickly dismissed it after voicing the idea to Christine and Meg, who had been horrified at the idea, and had denied it quickly. Since those two could be relied on to relate spreading gossip better than anyone, Marie had been puzzled at the behavior of the dancers.

"I can't believe that they did all of this for me," she whispered aloud, glancing at the small pile of hair ribbons that she had been given today. Now she would have a ribbon for her hair that matched every dress she owned!

"Well, you should," said a female voice from the doorway.

"Madame Giry!" Marie cried, running to hug the older woman.

Madame returned the hug and released her to press a small box into the young girl's hands. "Happy Birthday, my dear one," she said, smiling as she watched Marie examine the wrapped parcel.

Carefully undoing the plain brown paper and opening the wooden box, Marie gasped. Inside was a broach to pin at the neck of her dress! The glossy porcelain had three roses of red, white, and pale yellow with green stems and leaves painted on it, and it was set in a yellow gold. It had to have been fairly expensive. But then, Madame always gave both her and Christine such nice gifts on their birthdays.

"Thank you so much! It is beautiful!" she said, immediately attaching the broach to the neck of her deep-green dress.

"You are welcome, petite," Madame Giry replied, smiling fondly at the girl. "After all, you are almost a young woman now, and are in need of the proper attire." Madame hugged her again before heading out towards the practice rooms.

Grinning, Marie raced out her door as well, going back to the costume mistresses, all of whom she strongly suspected of having conspired with the ballet rats, and therefore had some part in today's festivities.

* * *

From the shadows behind the hidden door in the elder Mademoiselle Daae's room, the Phantom watched as she left for her daily chores. He was slightly envious of the young girl, who, on the day of her 14th birthday, had more friends and almost-sisters than she cared to admit. The first two instruction levels of the _corps de ballet_ adored the older girl, even though she was at least five or eight years older than them and could have easily dismissed them as children. 

Over the years, Mademoiselle Marie Daae had the option of chatting with the older dancers who were her own age. She could have spent more time talking about more grown up things, like future marriage options, dresses, ribbons, and the latest fashions in Paris. However, she seemed to prefer trading fairy stories and giggling over nonsense-talk with the younger children, the ones about the same age of her little sister, Christine.

"Christine," he whispered, frowning.

Christine, the dear little girl with the large blue-gray eyes that were so innocent and trusting, the only person who was always too happy to hear his voice though the walls of the chapel where they met. He had wanted to instruct her in her rooms, but her sister was directly next-door, and he did not want to risk being caught by the older girl, which would be rather embarrassing and odd, in and of itself.

He growled. For some reason, Marie Daae perplexed him. She did not seem to be frightened of the stories that floated about the Opera House, the ones that had struck fear into the hearts of the managers, dancers, stagehands, and performers. _They_ were all terrified of what could happen should he be displeased with the goings-on at the Populaire, but Marie did not seem to believe in him. In fact, she did not believe in either one of his popular guises as either the Ghost or the Angel of Music.

'_But for some reason, she tolerates my being the Angel because it helps Christine_.'

Why was that? He knew that she loved her sister, but would she be willing to humor Christine, just to keep her happy? It appeared so, for each time he watched the two girls talk within the confines of their rooms, he noticed the disbelief and tolerance in Marie's eyes. Her disbelief was for the Angel, and the tolerance…well, that sort of acceptance was obviously for the fact that this imaginary being was what was keeping Christine happy with her life here, besides Marie.

'_Such a complicated thing for one so young_,' he thought, a small smile tugging on his lips. '_But then, perhaps that is what I find so fascinating about her_.'

Twirling towards the right, he decided to grace the elder Daae girl with his invisible presence for a little while longer. After all, it _was_ her birthday…

* * *

Marie pouted as she left the costume rooms. She had been given the rest of the day off to do as she pleased, since today was her birthday and Madame Eleanor wouldn't hear of her staying to do more work. Marie didn't know Madame Eleanor's last name, and she sincerely doubted that anyone else knew it, either, since the middle-aged woman refused to give it to anyone. 

But that was beside the point. At least she now had time to catch up with the ballet rats, who would be probably be gossiping about one thing or another, or telling stories. Making her way down the hall, Marie headed to the dormitories that the _petite corps de ballet_ shared. First, though, she had to make her way past the dancers that were her age. That would be more of a challenge, since the last thing she needed was to get caught and forced to listen to them brag about their latest dress purchase.

Quietly, Marie tiptoed down the hallway, avoiding any dancer that she saw. It wasn't that she _hated_ the older dancers; it was just that she didn't prefer their company most of the time. She would much rather spend time trading wild stories about the fairies and imps than to talk about dresses, marriage options, and the latest hat fashions that were now floating around Paris. It all sounded too stuffy for her taste, and the younger girls had _much_ better senses of humor.

Slipping her way past the older girls, Marie found the purple door that she was searching for and slipped inside, where all of the younger girls were changing out of their practice outfits. Christine stood in a corner with Meg, who was helping her get a knot out of her shoes. Since Marie spent most of the day helping sew costumes, Christine had been obliged to join the other girls in the dormitory after practice, especially when Marie didn't like the idea of Christine being alone for very long. There were quite a few unsavory workers here in the Opera House, as she had found out from the older girls, and she had every intention of keeping Christine out of harm's way.

After helping a few girls get out of their outfits and helping them get into their normal clothes, the girls all scattered to different parts of the room. Her first week here, Marie had noticed that each gathering of girls was based on a certain topic of conversation. It was a fascinating notion, and an orderly one that people did not expect from the silly girls of the ballet. Marie rather liked it, and today she decided to see what sort of ridiculous stories were circulating about the so-called Opera Ghost.

In her years here, Marie had heard dozens of stories and theories about the Ghost that walked the Populaire's hallways, and had been amused at each and every one. Many were guesses at what he looked like and whether or not he could really walk through walls. Some called him the Trapdoor Lover, for some had reported seeing him vanish in front of them through a trapdoor way on various floors of the Opera House. Others said that they saw sections of wall opening and closing, only to go to the spot and find nothing there.

Marie merely laughed at the tales. Seeing didn't necessarily mean believing in her book, but in this case, it would really help. In her time here, she had never actually _seen_ the reported Opera Ghost in any way, not even a shadow! She _believed_ in restless spirits, and enjoyed reading stories about them, but she would like to see one, especially the Ghost. However, he acted more like a man, and therefore, a man he must be. Who else would demand money from the managers and leave notes?

'_No ghost **I've** ever read about leaves notes written in an elegant hand in red ink_,' she thought, remembering one bit of gossip that she had heard the older dancers talk about once while she had been fetching something for Madame Giry.

The whole thing was just silly, though the stories recently told sent a delicious chill up her spine. It was rather scary, and she liked it because it was interesting to hear. Later on, Marie would lie in her bed and use her imagination in order to frighten herself a little more using the tales about a Ghost that she herself had never seen in her two years here. Meg, Sorelli, and the other dancers had seen the Ghost, but for some reason, he remained out of Marie's sight. She always showed up after an appearance, and that disappointed her. Could he be avoiding her for some reason?

'_That's silly_,' she thought as Sorelli opened her mouth to tell more horrifying tales about the Ghost. '_Why would he be avoiding me, of all people_? _It's not as though I'm anyone to be frightened of_! _After all, I'm only 14-years-old, and no threat to anyone_.' Shrugging, Marie turned her eyes towards Christine, who had taken a spot to her sister's right just so she could rest her head on Marie's shoulder.

In the back of her mind, Marie really shouldn't have been surprised that Meg and the others had managed to convince Christine that the Ghost was real. After all, Christine believed that an Angel of Music was teaching her to sing in secrecy! As romantic as it sounded, thinking that the Angel of Music was teaching Christine to sing, and as much as she wanted to believe it, Marie just didn't have the heart to do so. Angels were all well and good, but would they really come down to help someone who didn't really need divine help? Christine had her sister to love her, as well as Madame Giry, who was like an adoptive mother to the two of them. Meg was a sister to both of the Daae girls, and the other ballerinas were friends as well, so why did Christine cling to this childish illusion?

'_Or perhaps I'm too grown up to have faith in anything like angels and ghosts_,' she thought.

But if that was so, why did she so wholeheartedly believe in fairytale magic, like the ones in her books? She just didn't understand why she could believe in fairies and elves and yet was so hypocritical when it came to the Angel of Music and the Opera Ghost. It was just so complicated, and it made her head hurt.

Sighing, Marie decided to just accept both the Opera Ghost and the Angel of Music into her life since there was no way to get them out. She would just have to live with them.

* * *

From his secret perch behind the wall of the _petite corps de ballet_ dormitory, the Phantom watched as little Sorelli told another story about him to a group of girls, a group that included both the older and younger Daae sisters. The stories both angered and pleased him; in anger, he watched as more people became more afraid of him and the things that he could possibly do to them as they moved about his Opera House. On the side of pleasure, the stories ensured that, should anyone receive a note or encounter him, they would be sure to do as he asked them to. 

A closer look at the group's expressions told him that they were all completely falling for the tale, except, predictably, the elder Mademoiselle Daae. He already knew that Christine believed in the stories, which was rather ironic, in and of itself. She loved him as the Angel of Music, but feared him as the Opera Ghost. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the thought. The dear child that, for one brief part of the day, appeared to love and accept him also feared seeing him.

'_Perhaps it would be best for her not to see me until she has complete faith in me_,' he thought, glancing between the sisters. '_It would take much time, but it will happen, eventually_.'

In the mean time, he would have to convince Marie Daae that both the Angel of Music and the Opera Ghost were indeed real, and not the product of the creative minds of others. It would take a great deal of planning, though, and he was not sure he would have the time to do it.

On the other hand…

* * *

Suddenly the candles and lamps in the dormitory flickered out, plunging the room into absolute darkness. Screams of "The Ghost!" filled the air as Marie shook her head and felt her way along the floor to the door, which she opened, allowing light to filter inside. 

"It was only a breeze though the cracks in the wall," she calmly yelled though the screaming. "The lights in my own room go out like this all the time. It's nothing to be afraid of."

The other girls stopped screaming and looked at her, not believing her for one minute. Marie sighed. It was only a breeze! There was no such thing as the Opera Ghost!

Was there?

* * *

AN: Please review! Merci! 


	4. Revelations

Disclaimer: I tried to lure the Phantom out of his home and into mine, but he's refused…so far...

AN: As promised, more Erik in this chapter…big time! I can't tell you what happens, so you'll just have to read it, now, won't you? (Grins evilly) Oh, and instead of the wig, I'm giving Erik **real** **dark hair** instead of light brown that's in the final scenes in the movie. Review!

**Chapter 4: Revelations:**

Another two years went by, and the Daae sisters celebrated their 4th year at the Opera Populaire with little trouble at all. Christine had adapted very well to life at the Opera House, and Marie was very proud of her. Her little sister was fitting in marvelously in the _corps de ballet_, and the other girls in her class loved to have her there…well, most of them anyway.

Little red-haired, green-eyed Hayley Moore from America wasn't too pleased with Christine for reasons beyond comprehension, and had done her best to play numerous (though harmless) pranks on the poor girl. The two were in the same dance level, but Hayley had joined only two years ago when her family had moved to Paris from New York City. She was a talented girl, though, and she got along with every other dancer in her class _except_ Christine. Despite the fact that Christine had never done anything to her, Hayley seemed to have an unnatural grudge against the curly-haired brunette.

Oddly enough, Hayley had no squabbles about trying to become acquainted with Marie, and had begged the older girl to be her friend. Marie _wanted_ to be friends with the fiery red-haired girl, but Hayley's unusual dislike of Christine had forced Marie to give her an ultimatum: she would only be friends with Hayley if the girl did her best to be polite to Christine. Since Hayley could only spend _so much_ time being polite to someone she hated, Marie did her best to give both of them equal amounts of her day, and divided her attentions between the two girls. However, Christine was the central focus of her life, and Hayley had to give in whenever Marie needed to focus on her sister's needs first.

Despite the dislike Hayley had for Christine, the friendship between her and Marie was a good one. Marie knew that Hayley herself didn't fully understand her dislike for the older girl's sister; it happened to be one of those rare situations where a person could not stop themselves from disliking someone at first sight. It boggled everyone's mind, but once the situation was explained to Christine, the curly-haired girl did her best to stay out of Hayley's way, and vice versa. It worked out for everyone, and things were much happier with that arrangement.

But there were certain times of the year when both Hayley and Christine could put aside their differences, if only for a mere hour or two. Once was during Christmas, and the other was Marie's birthday, which was a widely known tradition amongst the younger dancers. Every year, the ballet rats in Christine's class, as well as those in the younger levels, all gathered together to throw a tremendous party for the girl who they considered an older sister.

Throughout the last four years, Marie Daae had become a central figure in the lives of the younger dancers. She helped the newest girls adjust to being away from their parents by offering them shoulders to cry on, and became a confidant to all their secrets. As Madame Giry's assistant, Marie also offered advice on dance positions, practice outfits, and how to help deal with their unpleasant "monthly visitor." Also, whenever there was a problem that the girls considered too embarrassing to approach the ballet mistress with, Marie was usually the first one to hear about it and offer a solution. She had practically become invaluable to the girls, and the greatest pleasure they could ever get was from giving Marie a party to celebrate her day of birth.

Today was one such occasion, and the girls were all scrambling about, decorating one of the back rooms to have their party in. Since the girls never wanted to give just any ordinary party, it was always a _surprise_ party that was held a week or so before Marie's actual birthday. By now, most of the girls felt that she would have expected their annual parties, but that was never the case; every time they threw her a party, the sheer joy and surprise on her face told how she never expected such a wonderful thing each year.

This year's festivity, however, was too important to be a surprise party, for this was the year that, at 16-years-old, Marie became a young woman in the eyes of society.

* * *

The younger dancers were sitting on cushions on the floor in a large back room, Madame Giry overseeing the entire event just to be sure that things did not get…overexcited. Food and drinks had been passed around, and the gifts (some neatly wrapped while others were merely thrust into canvas bags) were all sitting around Marie's feet, waiting to be opened. The birthday girl herself was beaming, her eyes filled with tears at the happiness she felt. It never failed to amaze her that the girls managed to put this all together behind closed doors. How they managed to get the food and drinks in here was beyond Marie's comprehension, but since Madame Giry was there as well, the older woman might just have talked the cooks into making something extra for the occasion. 

Glancing around the room, Marie noticed that some of the girls around Christine's age were looking around the room nervously, flinching backwards from the darker corners of the large space and doing their best not to sit too close to the walls. She knew what they were thinking about, and it made her want to roll her eyes in exasperation at their childishness. Honestly, if it wasn't one thing or another that caused the girls to have nightmares, the predominant thing that struck the most fear into the hearts of all ballet rats was the Opera Ghost.

The elder girls especially feared that he would take them from their beds or try to kill them in their sleep. Ever since the night of her 14th birthday, the older girls were convinced that the Opera Ghost had caused the candles to go out in the room in an attempt to show his anger. Marie refused to believe it, considering how drafty that part of the Populaire was and wind-extinguished candles did not mean that a ghost was responsible.

'_Silly girls_,' she thought, trying not to snicker. '_I've been here for over four years and I **still** haven't seen evidence that this place is haunted by an Opera Ghost_!'

Finished with her food, Marie looked around and saw that nearly everyone was finished as well. Deciding that she couldn't wait any longer, Marie reached out and swiped the first gift she could get her fingers on, untying the blue ribbon that held the pale canvas material in place. A few girls noticed what she was doing and began squealing for her to open their gifts first. Marie only laughed.

"All in good time, girls, all in good time!" she cried as more and more gifts were thrust towards her hands.

The gifts were surprisingly more mature than in previous years. There were the usual chocolates, hard candy, hair ribbons, lace and such, but there were also fairly expensive threads for making handkerchiefs, embroidery for clothing, and even a plain hat for her to stitch her own designs to! It was all very thoughtful, but the one thing she loved the most was the small set of fairy tale books that Hayley had given her. The little redhead knew of Marie's love for reading, and had given her something she had not had the money to purchase herself.

"Read us a story, Marie!" cried a little girl from the first level of ballet. The other little girls all called out their agreements while the older ones groaned.

"I'll read to you as soon as we get to your dormitory," Marie replied, smiling at the younger children.

It was their turn to groan, but their disappointment did not last long. Madame Giry quickly had Marie take the smaller girls to their room to read to them as the older girls cleaned up. Once she had led the little girls back to their dorm, they seated themselves in a circle around a chair, eager for the storytelling to begin. Marie took her place in the chair and opened up one of the books to find what it had in store for them that evening. She quickly scanned down the list: Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty…her eyes stopped in the middle of the list.

'_Perfect_!' she thought before beginning of the tale.

* * *

Silently moving though the hidden passageways of the Populaire, the Ghost made he way through his Opera House. To ease his boredom, the Phantom had decided to check on Marie Daae's annual birthday celebration. Every year there was a party, and every year he watched the spectacle from behind the walls, spying on the gifts that were given and sneaking food when no one was watching. Occasionally, to make things interesting, he would cause a tiny breeze of wind to go down the neck of the nearest dancer, causing her to shiver and look around in a small state of fear. They _all_ looked around in fear whenever the unexpected (or unexplained) happened…all except one… 

It angered him, knowing that there was even a small handful of people within the Opera House that did not fear his presence. Even Madame Giry somewhat feared him; her obedience of him stemmed from the idea that, if she did not obey him, he would harm her beloved daughter, Meg. After the Daae's had moved to Paris, however, she soon grew even more fearful, thinking that he might cause them harm since Marie showed no signs of fear or respect towards him. And Madame was right to fear for the eldest Daae child; it tore him up to know that, while his presence terrified everyone else, the single person who refused to believe in him was a girl of but 16 years old!

In the depths of his mind, though, the Phantom knew that her lack of faith in him as both Christine's Angel of Music and the Opera Ghost was from the lack of sightings. The girl was always hidden in some back room with the costume mistresses, sewing the newest creations for the latest opera. _How_ was she to see him if she was always out of sight whenever he did his best to frighten the managers and performers? And he had no spare time on his hands to single her out and terrorize her when she was alone; besides, where was the fun in frightening someone because you had to?

He growled. Hopefully some of the pranks he had planned to act out at Mademoiselle Daae's party today would finally convince her of his presence in the Opera House!

Unfortunately, the party had _just_ ended before he arrived, and the guest of honor had already left. From what he could gather from the gossip floating around the room, Marie had gone to the dormitories with the tiny ballet rats to read them a story. He was annoyed that he had missed his chance to convince her of his presence, but decided to follow her to the dormitory for 'story time.' Besides, he had never been read to in his life, and this just might prove interesting…

Taking a peek into the large room, he saw a rather adorable sight. The tiniest of the ballet rats were gathered in a half-circle around Marie, their attention focused on the story she was reading aloud. He could barely hear what she spoke, so, moving ever so softly, he slipped to the wall behind her and listened carefully. What he heard fall from her lips both surprised and angered him.

"And so as the Beast lay dying, Beauty lay over his body and whispered the one thing that she had never been able to say before that day," Marie was saying. "She whispered, 'I love you,' and in a brilliant flash of light, the evil spell was broken. They were soon married, and lived happily ever after in the castle in the magical forest."

The little girls watched in awe as Marie closed the book and smiled down at them. The little ones waited, somehow knowing that there was more to come.

"And the moral of the story is to never judge others because of their appearance," the young woman said, looking each girl in the eye. "For it is not what is on the outside that matters, but what is lying within a person's heart that matters the most. Those fair in face could have a terrible heart beating beneath their breast, and those with the face of a monster might have the heart and soul of an angel." The girls all nodded solemnly as Marie stood up and gave them a bright smile.

"And I believe that it is time for little girls to be going to bed," stated a firm, female voice from the doorway. The girls all turned and groaned when they saw Madame Giry. "No groaning," she ordered. "Off to bed. I have much planned for you tomorrow, and you cannot dance if you are exhausted!"

The little ones rushed to obey as she helped to get them undressed for bed. Marie merely stood in the middle of the room, laughing as she put the book aside and began to turn down the covers on the beds.

Meanwhile, the Phantom felt the need to throttle someone. How _dare_ the girl presume to give a moral lesson on looks, especially when all of the world's societies were based on beauty and appearance? He put a hand to his face, on the mask that served as a thin barrier, separating him from the rest of the world. It was his curse, to remain different and outcast from those around him. Suddenly, he gazed at the woman who stood only a few feet from him.

What would she possibly know about looking different? Over the past years, he had watched as Marie Daae had grown into an attractive young woman. Her hair was no longer plain and straight, but instead fell in waves down her back, the front locks pulled back and secured by a bright blue ribbon. Her eyes were the same chocolate color as her hair, and the faint golden tinge in her skin was enhanced by the dark colors of her hair and eyes. Her figure, though smaller than average and wider of hips than the ballet rats, suited her well. Marie was not as tall or graceful as those that she helped to dance, but she was far from lacking in good looks!

'_She knows **nothing** about suffering from lack of a face_, _or of being a monster_,' he thought, gold-flecked, green eyes narrowing in anger. '_I'll show her what a monster **really** is_, _and that I truly do haunt the Opera House_!'

Twirling around, he followed her as she left the dormitory, a plan forming in the back of his mind.

* * *

It was about time for her to be going to bed, but Marie decided to take a small walk around the Opera Populaire. She knew that it was risky, particularly since some of the stagehands were known for whisking away unsuspecting girls to their bedrooms, willing or not, but the sugar from today's birthday cake was making her a bit edgy. She was certain a walk would help settle down her nerves, and if she kept to the darker parts of the halls, she could hide and easily escape detection. 

Quickly hiding herself whenever she heard someone approaching, Marie was able to make her way to the boxes where the upper class sat during performances. Madame Giry would have a fit if she knew where the eldest of her three 'girls' was, but tonight would be one of the rare times where Marie could see the stage from the front, and not the back. She would love to be able to actually see a performance at the Populaire, but that would only happen if she were to pay for a ticket. That, of course, would never happen, so she decided to sneak a glance while alone and unwatched.

As she made her way through the theater, Marie decided to investigate what was referred to as The Ghost's Box. Everyone in the Opera House knew that this was Box 5, but none went in there unless it was to quickly clean it and make sure that everything was in proper order. Tonight, Marie wanted to see what, exactly, was so special about Box 5 that would make a pretend (or at least, imagined) Ghost want to reserve it only for himself. Whether or not she found something was insignificant; it was the thrill of the adventure that she sought, and she had every intention to at least sit in it and pretend that she was a wealthy young woman who could attend the theater in a beautiful new gown and gloves.

Slipping though the curtained doorway, Marie took a sharp breath. The interior spoke for itself of why Box 5 was so coveted. The dark wood of the chairs was enhanced by the gold-embroidered, red velvet cushions that blended in perfectly with the red drapes and carpeting. It was all wonderfully elegant, and as Marie took a seat in one of the chairs, she had a magnificent view of the stage. Anyone sitting within the wall of Box 5 would be gifted with the finest view of the opera being performed before their eyes!

Marie sighed as she looked down at the stage. '_What I wouldn't give to see a performance from here, and not from behind the stage_!' she thought, not seeing the looming shadow behind her.

* * *

The Phantom had watched with eagerness as she approached Box 5. He could not have chosen a better place to frighten the girl! She had walked into a place that was practically a second home to him, and would now be at his mercy. Oh, he would not hurt her, but he could at least frighten her as much as he did with the ballet rats, and that would be enough. 

He watched carefully as she slipped inside, carefully studying her face as her expression changed from curious to awe. The longing that the Ghost saw flutter across her features showed that she yearned to witness an opera from this very box, to see the wonders that her work helped to create and to experience the magic that a simple, well-orchestrated performance could do to the senses.

But he would not give her that chance. Instead, he slipped up behind her just as she rose from her chair and turned around to unknowingly face him.

* * *

As she stood and reached into a pocket for some of her birthday candy, Marie smiled. Several of the girls had pressed a dozen small bags of the stuff into her hands, and she had put one of them into her pocket to have for later this evening. She wanted to have a piece while sitting in Box 5, but she knew that would be a bad idea. There was the chance of her dropping her candy and soiling the carpet or the chairs, and if that should happen, there would be hell to pay, both to the managers and to Madame Giry (whom Marie feared more than anyone). 

Tucking her candy away once more, Marie turned around and found herself nose-to-chest with a very tall man. Even from where she was standing, she could see that he was well-dressed. Black coat, cravat, gold vest, white shirt, all of it blended together in a way that basically screamed elegance. Glancing up, her eyes glided over a handsome chin and nose that was half covered by a white porcelain mask.

But it wasn't the mask that caught her attention. Her eyes moved right past it and focused on his eyes, her breath catching in her throat. Green orbs flecked with gold stared down at her, anger causing both colors to seemingly flicker from an internal flame. They were the most beautiful eyes that she had ever seen, and despite them being full of anger, she couldn't help but stare into them.

"You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen," she whispered aloud.

The anger burning within the mysterious man's eyes suddenly vanished, only to be replaced with surprise. He blinked at her, his mouth dropping open slightly as though to speak, but no words fell from his lips. Instead, he backed away and stared back at her, giving Marie an excellent chance to think through the situation she was in.

'_I'm in Box 5 with a man in a mask_,' she thought, finally wrapping her mind around what was happening. '_Wait, doesn't the Ghost wear a mask_?'

According to the tales floating around the Opera House, the Ghost did, indeed, wear a mask and moved like a shadow. After all, she hadn't heard him enter the Box, now, did she? If he entered like a normal person, the noise from the curtain forming the door would have made at least called some sort of attention. Since she had heard nothing in the absolute stillness of the theater, he must have come in though one of those famous trapdoors that he was so fond of.

'_But why does he wear a mask_?'

Marie couldn't help thinking that question. The supposed Opera Ghost looked like any ordinary man, but perhaps the mask was to frighten people, like the tricks he played on unsuspecting ballerinas? She snuck a closer look at the masked side of his face. It only covered a little less than half of the right side of his face, the rest of which looked incredibly handsome and appealing. Why would a handsome man cover his face like this? Looking into his eyes, she saw that the eyehole of the mask showed a little of the skin surrounding his eye. The skin looked slightly puffy and red, very different from the olive skin the rest of his face bore.

'_His face must be deformed_,' Marie thought, somewhat surprised. '_If he's even slightly different, of course he would wear a mask_!' His eyes narrowed, indicating that he had caught her staring at his mask as she drew a sad conclusion. '_He's an outcast_.'

A surge of emotion caused her to bite back tears of sympathy. Feeling a sorry for the poor man who probably had not a friend in the world, Marie reached into her dress pocket.

* * *

The Phantom knew that Marie had been staring at his face since he had stepped in front of her. But when she had commented about the beauty of his eyes, he could only pull back in surprise. He knew that there was nothing beautiful about him, but to have a young woman merely say something kind about him was like getting hit by lightning: it stopped his heart in his chest and sent a burning heat through his body that he didn't know he could feel. 

Not knowing how to react, he had pulled back to the doorway, staring at her as she stared at him. He saw her eyes flicker towards his mask, and the anger that had disappeared at her compliment came rushing back. She was no doubt judging him from his looks. Soon she would see that he was, in fact, a monster, and that a fairy story was just that: a story.

His anger was once again replaced by shock when she reached into a pocket and withdrew a small bag. The Ghost expected her to throw it at him, to distract or fend him off, but was unprepared for her to _offer it_ to him as one would a gift. Automatically reacting without thought, he reached out and accepted the small blue package.

"It's peppermint candy," she said, giving him a kind smile. "It's quite good. I hope that you enjoy it."

Not knowing what to do or say, the Phantom turned and fled though a hidden door in a hasty exit. He needed to return home and think about what had just happened during his encounter with Marie Daae.

* * *

AN: Did you like their first meeting? Please review and let me know what you thought! Thanks! 


	5. A Lair of Darkness and Thought

Disclaimer: As much as I tried to trap/kidnap/lure Erik to my house, he remains uncatchable, and therefore does not belong to me…yet…

AN: I would like to thank everyone who reviewed so for their support! As promised, much more Erik in this chapter, and some lovely stuff that us Phantom fans can only dream of. For the record, I've seen pictures of the bed, and it does _not_ look like a swan; it looks like a phoenix in flight, or something as mythical, so that's what I'm going to put down as the bed's shape. Enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 5: A Lair of Darkness and Thought**:

Marie yawned as she watched Christine finish brushing her hair in front of her small mirror. Their nightly tradition of warm milk before bed was completed, but Marie was too content to go to sleep just yet. Instead, she watched as Christine's curls bounced back into place after each brush stroke, the warm, healthy shine of the brown locks causing her mouth to quirk in a smile.

'_I wish my hair were like hers_,' Marie thought, biting back a sigh of envy. '_Mine merely lies there and doesn't do anything_.'

Turning her thoughts aside from her sister's hair and faint humming, Marie's mind focused on the man she had met only two hours earlier. He _had_ to have been the one playing the role of the Opera Ghost, she was sure. The white mask, the dark clothing, and the silent way he moved practically screamed that he was, indeed, the legendary Ghost. She doubted that the mask was merely a part of the role he played, but was, in fact, a part of his very being. Marie had seen that his face was distorted beneath the white material, and had concluded that the "Ghost" was merely a man who was exploiting the Opera House's managers and patrons for his own profit.

'_But how did he end up here in the first place_?' she thought, frowning slightly.

That was another thing to consider: where had this physically distorted man come from, and how had he come to live at the Opera House? He also had to have found a way to walk through the building without getting caught, considering the rumored existence of trapdoors and movable sections of wall. Perhaps these doorways were of his handiwork? After all, he knew them well enough, and since no one else had the nerve to use them, the hidden doorways must have been of his creation. There must be a fascinating and fantastic tale behind him, and she would very much like to be able to hear it.

'_Personally, I think it's a good thing that I never believed in the dancers' stories about him_,' she thought, biting back a small chuckle. '_Silly girls_; _if I could get them to accept the truth, we could all enjoy a good laugh as we watch the managers shake in their shoes whenever they receive a note from him_!'

"Marie, could you tie this ribbon for me?" Christine's soft, pleading voice broke through her sister's thoughts in an attempt to get her attention.

Marie immediately jerked back to the present and went to help her sister get ready for bed.

* * *

Retreating to his home beneath the Opera Populaire, the Phantom could just barely register that he had reached his destination. His mind was in a fog over what had happened to him in Box 5, and it was as though he were moving through the secret passageways in a trance. 

Had a young woman just given him a gift? Granted, it was only a small bag of sweets, but it was a gift, nonetheless. Never before had he received something that was so freely and so kindly given to him. Madame Giry gave him things when she felt obligated, and only then it was a kind of bribery for him to stay away from her daughter and the Daae sisters. But Marie had given him something of her own free will, a gesture that she sealed with a soft, kind smile and a look of sympathy in her eyes.

'_I will never understand that girl_,' he thought, shaking his head.

It was then that the Phantom realized that he had reached his secret underground home. Pulling off his cloak and tossing it aside, he went towards his bedchamber, where he set aside the small gift bag of candy and removed the rest of his formal clothing. Once he was in a loose white shirt, black pants and his black vest with silver stitching, he once again took up the small bag and made his way over to his organ, taking his usual seat while mindlessly staring at the keys as he clutched the small object in his hand. He usually played when he was thinking, but tonight, music did not call to him.

Instead, his mind was filled with the image of Marie Daae, her hand extended towards him and the bag of candy in her palm. The same bag he now set in front of him, a puzzle that seemed intent on mocking him as it rested on the ivory keys of his prized instrument. The wrapping was a sort of netting formed from light and dark blue threads that shimmered in the flickering lights of his candles. A wide blue ribbon trimmed with silver embroidery closed the top of the small package. It was quite pretty, and from what he could recollect from his spying on the ballet rats, blue was her favorite color.

But what could possess a young woman who had never met him, who had never believed in his existence, to want to give him a gift? It was nothing special, a mere bag of candy from a girl's birthday party, but still…

'_It's the first party favor that's ever been given to me_,' he thought, staring at the small bag that was now all the more precious.

He wanted nothing more than to tear open the pretty blue wrapping and devour the delicious treats within, but that would be a quick end to the treasured gift. But to let it spoil would be a travesty, too. Gah, the girl was driving him mad without even being in the same room with him!

An idea caused him to jerk straight up in his seat, a slow grin spreading across his lips. Leaping from his seat, the Phantom raced towards the tunnel leading to the Opera House, pulling his cloak over his shoulders as he disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

Sleep did not come easily to Marie that night. Her dreams were filled with the tall, dark, haunting image of the Opera Ghost, his gold-flecked green eyes staring at her from behind the stark, eerie white mask that covered something that she, for some reason, longed to see. She tried to wake up, but the vision would not leave her; her mind stubbornly forbade her from leaving the realm of dreams, and so she was forced to spend her time running away from an illusion that was all in her head. 

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Marie could feel arms slipping under her and lifting her up into a comforting embrace, carrying her someplace that was colder than her bed. The smell of moisture filled her nose, and in her mind she found herself near a lake of dark water with the faint light of the moon shining down on it. It was a rather unusual dream, and she wasn't sure that she liked it very much. The world was so dark and lonely where she was, and she began to struggle, very much wanting to wake up.

From a place far away, a soft, beautiful male voice softly whispered into her ear.

"It is alright, petite," he said. "Sleep. I will protect you."

Sighing, Marie fell into more pleasant dreams, ones filled with the lovely voice she had just heard.

* * *

It had been quite late when the Opera Ghost entered Marie Daae's room; he had wanted to be sure that he took her while she was lost in sleep and would not wake when he lifted her from her bed. Perhaps kidnapping her from her room was not the most brilliant idea, but he lacked any other way to speak to her in private, away from the prying eyes of the ballet rats and employees of his Opera House. 

As he had hovered next to her bed, the Phantom had looked down at her, seeing that her face was so innocent when asleep. Marie had a way of being very adult and responsible, wearing the heaviness of her burdens physically and causing her to appear older than she actually was. He hadn't wanted to shake her awake and ruin her well-deserved rest, so instead, he had bent over and swept her up into his arms. She was not a heavy thing, and he easily carried her weight.

As he transported her through the dark passageways of the Populaire, he looked down when he heard a slight change in her breathing. On a closer look, he saw that her face showed faint traces of bewilderment, as though she did not understand when she was dreaming of. He smiled faintly; it was amusing to see the one puzzle in his life have something trouble her in return.

Suddenly, he felt her begin to stir. The last thing he needed was for her to awaken before they reached his lair; he did not want her to scream and attract attention so close to the surface near the inhabitants of the Opera House! Holding her close, he did the only thing that came to mind: he spoke to her, manipulating his voice so that it seemed to blend in with her dreams.

"It is alright, petite," he whispered into her ear. "Sleep. I will protect you." She gave a soft sigh and relaxed, her hands drifting up to cling to him.

He stiffened, his hands involuntarily holding her close to his body. Her previous kindness and present unconscious affection was pulling at his frame of mind. All his life he had wanted someone to understand and be gentle towards him. Then, when it finally took place, it was in the unexpected form of an attractive young girl handing sweets to him while awake and clinging to him while asleep! He didn't know whether to count this as a blessing or a curse!

'_She is driving me to the edge of sanity_,' he again thought, gritting his teeth as he walked into his home. '_And she will soon find out her mistake in her affection when she awakens_!'

Carrying her to the carved, bird-shaped bed, the Phantom laid Marie down upon the red velvet covers and drew the curtain over her so that the candlelight from the next room would not disturb her. Giving her one last glance, he turned and left to try and ease his thoughts.

* * *

It was still dark when Marie awoke the next morning, which did not make any sense. The room should have gradually been filled with candlelight, since Madame Giry was usually very good about waking her up. And since she felt well-rested, it had to be morning. 

'_So why is it still so dark_?' she thought, opening her eyes slightly as she nuzzled her nose deep into the soft bedsheets.

But since when did her sheets smell different from the normal smell of sandalwood, the usual scent used by the washerwomen of the Opera House? Instead, the sheets had the heavy scent of roses, her favorite flower. Also, they were softer than the cotton sheets she usually slept on; these felt like velvet of some sort, and there was no possible way that Madame Giry or the costume mistresses would let anyone use velvet for anything other than the costumes!

The sound of organ music reached her ears, causing her to sit straight up in the bed. Looking around, Marie saw that she was definitely not in her bedroom anymore. She was in an intricately carved bed that resembled a bird in flight, and there was a soft veil-like curtain surrounding the bed. Unless Madame Giry had ordered someone to move her room underground, into a cave with very little light, and decorated it differently, she was no longer in her room next to Christine's.

'_So where am I_? _And who is playing that music_?' she thought, slightly panicked at the thought of being kidnapped from her room.

Carefully raising the curtain and slipping out of bed, Marie discovered that despite her being in a cave, the floor was covered in a beautifully colored soft carpet. The walls in the bedroom held only enough candles to see by, but she was still able to discover the doorway to the outer rooms. As she walked, she noticed that the light at the end of the short hallway was becoming brighter and brighter, the source of the light coming from dozens of candles that were secured in incredibly elegant candelabras. Marie stepped into the outer room.

Her breath stopped within her throat. There was a lake…a beautiful glassy lake that glistened as though by both sunlight and moonlight…the candles made the water dance and reflect towards the ceiling, creating the illusion that the entire place was built underwater. There was a boat, a gondola, if she was right, carved of elegant black wood and bobbing as waves moved it by some unseen force.

Curious brown eyes moved around the room. Candles seemed to sprout from everywhere, and there was another mysterious source of light that seemed to come from heaven, right behind the largest organ that Marie had ever seen in her life. Even the organ pit up by the orchestra wasn't this grand! There had to be at least three-dozen pipes with which to create music with! Oh, the music that its owner could make with it!

And speaking of the owner of this underground realm…

He sat before his instrument, gloved hands caressing the keys and playing the lovely music that had roused Marie from her (or rather, _his_) bed. He had black hair that was slicked back combed into an elegant hairstyle. His white shirt was simple and loose underneath a black vest, both of which blended well with the black pants and boots he wore. Even from the back he was striking, and she could only imagine what he looked like face-to-face.

Quietly walking forward, Marie stopped a few feet behind her mysterious abductor and listened. The music appeared to be something to sooth the listener, but was not a lullaby. It seemed to have been created to calm someone and keep them from being afraid, as well as to sooth the musician's soul as he performed. Was he playing it to keep her from being frightened? What sort of man did that after kidnapping a young girl (nearly a woman) from her room in the middle of the night? This was just getting more and more confusing for Marie, and she was not sure she could hold onto her sanity. At that point, she knew that if she did not confront her abductor now, she probably never would.

She reached out with her hand and touched his shoulder, startling him and stopping the song in an abrupt gaggle of notes that, under different circumstances, would have been amusing to hear. The man turned around, and she was astonished to see that her abductor was the Opera Ghost himself.

And for once, he was completely unmasked…

* * *

He had been unable to sleep after putting the elder Mademoiselle Daae in the bed shaped like a phoenix-in-flight. If he had thought that the absence of her presence made him uneasy, merely having her in the next room was soon driving him to mad! To ease his mind and spirit, the Opera Ghost had set aside his formal coat and cloak, pulled off his mask, and had begun to play something to sooth his soul and his whirling mind. In a few moments, he was lost within the realm of music and the world it could create around him. 

A hand on his shoulder broke him from his trance. Whirling around in his seat, the curious brown eyes of Marie Daae bore into his. Her gaze moved to the right side of his face, and he remembered that his mask now lay on a table…on the other side of the room! Gasping, he covered the twisted part of his face as he tried to leap from his bench, trying to get up, trying to run away from the young girl in front of him so that he did not frighten her as he had so many others before.

The soft hand on his left shoulder stopped his movements, the other going to his right hand. The Phantom looked up from his seat and looked deep into her eyes. There he saw that her deep chocolate gaze held no fear, no hate or malice, but instead held an innocent curiosity that he had only ever seen in very young children. Her quiet gaze calmed his rapid pulse and ragged breath as he waited for her reaction to his face. Marie's touch gently pulled away his hand so that she would be able to better peek at the curse that was his face. He closed his eyes and waited for the screams to begin.

* * *

Marie had seen his panic the moment she had set eyes on his face…his twisted face that had skin hanging in loose, discolored patches from his cheek. The skin around his right eye was swollen and an irritated red color, and the right half of his nose was slightly bumpy where it should have been smooth. The deformity went up into his forehead, but ended just before his hairline. 

She saw his eyes fill with tears as his hand snapped up to cover his face, "protecting" her from its ugliness and protecting him from the expected fear and disgust. His green orbs drifted towards the opposite side of the room, where she assumed he had left his mask after putting her in his bed. A stab of pity shot through her heart as she imagined what this poor man had gone through in his life, all because of a slight difference in his face. No wonder he feared her seeing him as he naturally was; the thought of another person being terrified and fleeing from him must have been heartbreaking.

'_But other than the difference on the right side, the left certainly is handsome_!' Marie thought as she caught a brief glimpse of the other side.

The legendary Opera Ghost was in possession of a face that, had he been born "normal," would have had many men frowning in jealousy and many women falling at his feet. A strong jaw, luscious lips, and a chin with a slight clef in it…all of it combined with thick dark hair and incredible green eyes that sparkled with a dusting of gold made him a pleasure to look at even _with_ a mask!

'_It's a pity that he doesn't see himself that way_,' she thought, the pity in her nearly overflowing within her heart.

How long has it been since someone touched him in a gentle way? She couldn't help but wonder if he had ever been touched in an affectionate manner. Reaching up, she gently put her hand on his arm and opened up his entire face to her eyes.

* * *

He was shocked and amazed to feel soft fingertips grazing his skin, gently exploring the rough, irritated red skin that he had borne since birth. Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to savor each and every moment, every second, of this amazing experience. He tried to brand this moment into his memory so that he would be able to recall it even after she had turned and fled in terror of him. 

Her touch was soft and sweet, the skin of her fingers smooth and delicate as they coasted up to caress a side of him that had rarely known an affectionate touch. As it coasted over the parchment-like skin, they left a feeling of warmth that he could not recall ever feeling before. The back of her hand now made its way up to his forehead, brushing back a lock of his hair before her fingers began to comb it back. It felt like heaven, and he hoped that she never stopped what she was doing.

After a few moments, he opened his eyes and gazed down into hers. There was no trace of fear in her gaze, only that of pity and understanding. He could see how she was imagining the terrible things he must have experienced in his life due to his face, and he could see that she wanted to apologize to him on behalf of the world, to ask his forgiveness for what it had done to him.

But she did not have that power, and the two of them knew that. Instead, she gave him a kind smile and asked a question no one had asked of him in over twenty years.

* * *

"What is your name?" Marie whispered, keeping her voice quiet so that she would not anger or disturb him.She knew that he had to know _her_ name, as it was said that the Ghost knew everything that went on within the Opera House, no matter how hard a person tried to keep things secret. He had to have known that she and Christine had come here over four years ago, and therefore had to have known their names, as well. Since she could not, _would_ not, call him the Phantom of the Opera or the Opera Ghost, Marie desperately wanted to know the name of the man who played music so beautifully. 

The man known as the Opera Ghost looked a little surprised and slightly ashamed. "No one has asked me that for quite some time," he softly replied, his voice a bit louder than her own hushed one.

"Does it bother you that I asked?" she questioned, a bit worried at the thought of angering him in any way. "I mean, I am sure that you know who I am, as well as everything about me and my life, but I have yet to know anything about you, beyond that of tales told by the ballerinas."

A smile briefly tugged at the corners of his lips until he realized that she had amused him. He appeared to be trying to fight it, but soon gave up. The corners of his lips quirked into a lovely little smile which only made her grin in return.

"You have a lovely smile," Marie blurt out before she could stop herself.

He blushed. "Thank you," he said, looking a bit surprised at the compliment.

"But you still have not told me your name," she said, as though chiding him. "I cannot be friends with someone if I do not know their name."

"You want to be my friend?" he said, inhaling sharply. She nodded. The Ghost stared at her for a moment before taking a deep breath, seeming to trying to gather his courage to tell her what she wanted to know.

"My name," he paused, reaching out and taking her hands in his, "is Erik."

* * *

AN: Yay, they finally met! I have to admit that it's always been a fantasy of mine to be abducted by Erik in the middle of the night, so this chapter was fantastically fun for me to write. Let me know how you liked the chapter by reviewing! 


	6. Getting to Know You

Disclaimer: I tried to lure the Phantom out of his home and into mine, but he's refused…so far...

AN: Yes, I'm using a song title from another movie/musical, but I can't help it if it fits with the chapter! Also, things are going to start getting a tad bit conflicting between characters after the next few chapters. Please don't hate me, especially when conflict's what makes a story worth reading. Enjoy!

**Chapter 6: Getting to Know You:**

Marie felt relieved after hearing the Ghost's name. It made him seem more human and less like a greedy, mischievous man whose sole task was to embezzle money from the managers, frighten the staff, and play terrifying pranks on the ballet rats. She smiled at him as he released her hands and went to retrieve a chair for her so that they may talk.

As he did so, Marie took another look around the amazing room. The numerous candles gave an eerie, dreamlike ambiance to the cavern, and she found that she enjoyed it very much. A few short steps led her to one of the tables stationed on both sides of the organ, its contents showing her that Erik was an artist and/or a craftsman, and a talented one at that. A small model of the Opera's stage and its actors was set up, costumes and all, the tiny dolls amazingly lifelike and very charming.

'_He could be a toy maker_,' she thought, awed by the detailed display. '_I wish I could do something lovely like this_.'

"Do you approve?" Erik's musical voice whispered past her ear, startling her. She whirled around, a hand pressed over her heart in surprise as she came nose-to-chest with him. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you," he said, one hand reaching up to stroke her arm in apology.

Marie smiled at him. "It's alright," she said, turning back towards the model. "I was just admiring your work. It's beautiful, you know. You could make a fortune creating the most amazing toys or decorative miniatures in Paris, if you wanted to."

She turned around and saw surprise, delight, and pride within his green eyes. Something told her that Erik had never had a great deal of encouragement or praise in his life, and what she had just complimented about his work pleased him. A touch of red on his left cheek showed he was a little embarrassed, which Marie found rather endearing. She giggled.

"You're blushing," she gently teased him.

Erik straightened up. "I am not," he declared, turning around to better situate the chair he had brought for her.

* * *

Once the chair had been positioned slightly behind and to the right of the organ bench, Erik turned towards his guest. He offered her his hand, and felt a warm sensation when she accepted it. He regretted having put on his gloves, but felt that it would be improper for him to touch a young woman so soon into their acquaintance. He would just have to be patient. 

After Marie was comfortably seated, Erik resumed his place in front of the organ and began to play some of the more cheerful tunes that he remembered, closing his eyes so as to lose himself in the music. He knew that he played through at least three songs before allowing the notes to gently fade to nothing, his attention drifting towards the young woman seated behind him. His head turned to get a better look at her and at her reaction to his music.

Marie's eyes were closed, a blissful expression on her face and a faint smile on her lips. She was leaning back in her chair, allowing the music to roll over her in waves as she lost herself to it. The contentment that settled on her features was one he had longed to bring to many an audience, but to see this one girl become so touched by his music caused something to stir in his chest. A rare feeling of pride and joy swelled within him as the last note faded into the darkness of the cavern. When it had vanished completely, Erik watched as Marie's eyes fluttered open and stared at him in awe.

"That was wonderful," she breathed, admiration and envy filling her voice. "I have never heard music like that before, and I have listened to every opera that has been played for the past four years!"

"That is because it is my own work," Erik replied, turning to face her fully from his bench.

"You write music?" she asked, surprised. "That's wonderful!"

"It is a hobby of mine," he said, hiding a smug look. "I wrote this piece several months ago, and until now, I have been the only one to have heard it."

Marie looked at him with puzzled eyes. "But why would you let me hear it?" she asked, clearly confused by the honor he had bestowed upon her. "I am no one special."

This time he did smile, openly and with amusement. Lately he had been smiling more than ever before in his life, and Erik couldn't help but wonder if it was perhaps due to the young woman sitting in front of him. Her brown eyes were so kind and open, her smile asking for others to trust her; it was no wonder that the ballet rats trusted her with their secrets and with their love. But he would not trust her yet, not until he was sure of her own feelings and trust towards him, first.

"When you were in my Box, I saw the look of longing on your face," he said, pulling his eyes away from Marie's, trying to focus on anything but her. "You longed to see and appreciate an opera from the audience's point of view instead of being placed far away from it and the magic that it could create. You, Marie, wanted to be part of it in one way instead of another."

Erik heard her sift back and forth in her chair. Perhaps she was uncomfortable with the fact that he had read her heart so well, that he had looked deep into her inner desires? Or perhaps because he had observed her during a private moment, one where she could let her emotions soar without someone interrupting her? He found himself glancing over at her to see what she might be feeling.

Marie's eyes had drifted towards a space between the floor and the organ, staring at it in intense concentration while seeming to avoid his gaze. Her hands were clasped together in her lap in a death-grip as she chewed her lip. He had seen her do that after she had received disturbing news, and believed that the habit was one that occurred when in deep thought or under extreme discomfort. He opened his mouth to apologize, sincerely hoping that he had not offended the first almost-friend that he had ever had in his life. Erik's apology was halted before it had even begun.

"I _do_ love music," she confessed, a small smile on her lips as her eyes drifted up to look at his organ. "I love to watch the dancers practice their parts as they get ready for the newest opera performance. The orchestra and singers always practice whenever I'm in the back rooms with the costume mistresses, and I almost never get to hear the cast play out a full rehearsal." Her brown eyes turned to meet his green ones. "I'm honored to have been the first person to hear you work."

Her gentle hand reached out and touched his, giving it a tight, friendly squeeze. Before he could stop himself, Erik squeezed hers in return. A moment later, Erik realized what was happening and abruptly stood up. He had to stop this before he trusted her too much, before she could suddenly betray him.

"I should return you to your rooms," he blurted out, straightening out his shirt. "Someone might come looking to check on you in the middle of the night and find you missing. I should return you before someone worries about where you have disappeared to."

Marie nodded her agreement as she stood up as well. "Thank you, it's very kind of you," she said, giving him another warm smile. "Will I be able to visit you down here again?"

He blinked at her. "You want to come back?" he asked, thoroughly amazed at the mere thought of someone coming back down into his personal Hell of their own will, just to visit him.

Now it was her that looked surprised. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "It's beautiful down here," she said, looking around at their surroundings. "It is like you live in a dream."

Erik couldn't help but preen. In his mind, this was his nightmare, the darkness that hid him from the world. To her, this was a dream, a fantasy between wakefulness and sleep. If she wanted to return here, then he would allow it to be so; he had grown tired of the loneliness that had plagued his life for so long. But the secret passageways…to show, or not to show her …

'_That is the question_,' he thought, paraphrasing Shakespeare. '_Well, time enough to decide that_.'

Pushing aside those thoughts, he offered his hand to Marie. "Come, I will return you," he said, giving her a small smirk. "It is nearly time for the ballet rats to awaken anyway."

Without another word, he led her towards the surface.

* * *

The journey back was silent, so Marie had plenty of time to look at her surroundings and try to engrave into her mind the path Erik was taking her through during this night. 

She had no idea that such an intricate number of passageways existed beneath the Opera House! Her new friend was focused on one path, a gloved hand wrapped tightly around hers as he walked towards the surface, but as she turned her head to glance around, Marie noticed that several paths connected with the one they were currently taking. There were so many to choose from…if she were to find one on her own, how would she be able to find her way anywhere?

'_Perhaps Erik could teach me_,' she thought as she practically ran down the cavern to keep up with his fast pace. She mentally cursed her short stature and small legs…

The mere existence of so many passages shouldn't have surprised her. Considering the rumors that the Ghost (or, as she knew him now, Erik) used a number of trapdoors to sneak around the Populaire, she wouldn't be surprised to find that each corridor they passed led to every single room in the entire Opera House. It made her slightly uncomfortable, knowing that he could look in on her (or any of her friends or family) whenever he pleased and they would not know it.

"Erik?" He turned his head at the sound of her voice. "Have you ever…spied on me or my sister?"

* * *

Erik stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. He couldn't tell her that he had, in fact, watched her and Christine ever since they had first stepped into the Opera House. He also knew that Marie did not suspect him of being Christine's Angel of Music, for he had given her nothing to deduce that from. And yet, she had to know that everyone and everything within the Populaire was a concern for him. 

For some reason, however, the Daae sisters caught and held his attention more than anyone else ever had; there was an innocence about the two of them, though Marie showed _far_ more common sense and wisdom than Christine. But what attracted him the most to the two sisters was the close bond they shared, even though they were not even blood related. It was enchanting, watching a doting Marie sooth her little sister's fears and telling her stories at night. But observing them was a bittersweet thing, for Erik knew that he would likely never have that sort of affection in his life. In the mean time, he contented himself by watching Marie be an older sister to half of the ballet rats.

'_To answer her question_, _yes_, _I have watched both her **and** her sister_,' he thought, trying to formulate a way of explaining his situation to her.

But for the first time in his life, he actually felt guilty about it.

* * *

Marie watched as Erik took a deep breath, almost as though he were preparing himself for something. She waited a few moments as he composed himself and attempted to focus on an answer to her question. Finally, he turned to look her face-to-face. 

"The well-being of all within my Opera House is my concern," he whispered as his eyes softened. "I would not call it spying, but merely looking after those who dwell within my kingdom." He grinned. "And to be sure that it is run to the best of the managers'…_limited_ abilities."

Marie smiled at his small jest, but didn't quite believe his words. She knew he could have easily looked in on her or Christine whenever he pleased. Furthermore, she did not know this man very well, so who was to say that he wasn't as bad (or even worse) than Joseph Bouquet, the man who sometimes refused to accept a refusal from the older ballerinas?

"I never invade the private living quarters," Erik's firm voice broke into her thoughts. "There are passages there, but I rarely use them."

"As you used them to take me from my room," Marie blurted out before she could stop herself.

The gold in Erik's green eyes seemed to flair in anger before fading to a dull yellow in embarrassment. "I am sorry for stealing you away," he softly replied, dropping his gaze and turning it towards the cavern walls. "I needed to speak to you about something, and yet have not had the time to do so tonight." He turned to look back at her. "I apologize for disturbing you and your rest."

Marie tilted her head and really looked at him. "What did you want to speak to me about?"

Erik merely shook his head. "It is not important," he said, grasping her hand and turning around to lead her down the pathway once more.

She refused do move, stubbornly pulling him back so that she could have an answer. "It must have been important for you to take me from my room in the middle of the night," Marie said, somewhat exasperated with his actions and a bit cranky by her lack of sleep.

Erik took a deep breath as he reached over and swept her up in his arms to carry her. After a few moments, he stopped before a solid stone wall. "We will not discuss it when we are both lacking rest," he reasoned, turning to look at her as he pushed the section of wall open with his free hand. "We will speak later, once everyone has gone to bed. I will come for you after midnight."

With a swish of his cape, he set her on the floor in her room and shut the wall behind her. Meanwhile, Marie checked the clock on the wall and did her best to restrain herself from screaming in frustration as she went to get ready for the workday. Perhaps the costume mistresses could help distract her thoughts from the dark man that haunted the hallways of the Opera Populaire.

* * *

After leaving Marie in her room, Erik had quickly returned to his cavern home underneath the Opera House. He had tried to pass time by playing and composing his music, reading his books, and crafting more models, but all in vain. He could not concentrate on one thing more than a few minutes, and it was beginning to drive him insane. The home by the lake seemed too quiet and too dark after having a guest for the first time. 

'_I miss her_.'

Those three words shocked him to no end. The girl had spent only a few hours there in sleep and a few more listening to his music, but for some reason, he could not bear to have his home without the familiar warmth of another person's presence. It was no wonder the little ballet rats rushed for Marie whenever they needed company after a nightmare, or comfort after they fell during practice; he had a strong feeling that Marie's nature of being kind, understanding, and a quiet listener was what attracted other people to her, primarily people who very much needed a friend.

And right now, he very much needed a friend.

'_I **know** that girl is going to drive me mad_,' Erik thought as he combed his fingers through his hair and reached for his cloak. '_Why else would I be heading back up to the Opera House so soon after leaving her in her room_?'

He had changed into an all-black ensemble, where everything from his boots to his shirt was black; the only thing that was a different color was his mask. As a rule, Erik only wore this outfit to frighten the Opera workers: a white mask seeming to hover in darkness was always good for scaring. Today, however, he wanted to see if he could persuade Marie to leave her jobs early and accompany him down to his home. He didn't know why, but having her there made him feel…almost human.

Slipping through the secret passageways, he quickly assumed his role as the Phantom. It was in this role that he could succeed in being the silent, but terrifying, presence that the Opera managers and workers would obey. Also, by becoming the Phantom, Erik could put aside all feelings except a cold sense of determination, and focus on what he was here to do.

In a few moments, he was out of the secret caverns and gliding along the catwalks above the stage. The little ballerinas were to be onstage for the first time during this opera, and Madame Giry wanted them to practice there so that they would become accustomed to it. Presently, though, the little ones (all in their fluffy, purple costumes) are not dancing; instead, they were standing in a group around a taller individual that was most definitely _not_ the ballet mistress; the formidable older woman was currently lecturing the prima ballerina about one thing or anther.

No, the person in charge of the little girls was Marie, and she appeared to be giving them some sort of encouragement. Erik watched as she smiled and patted each girl on the head as she spoke, almost as though her touch would be enough to get them through the performance. Before her fingers touched them, few of the girls looked excited or happy; instead, many looked frightened and/or nervous. A gentle, reassuring touch from Marie's hand onto their heads seems to calm the most terrified of dancers, and as Madame Giry heads towards them, the now-confident little ballerinas looked ready to dance their best.

As he watched them form two purple lines on either side of the stage, Erik noticed that Marie had moved backstage, probably so as not to distract the girls as they danced. He grinned, following her on silent feet as she went to watch the performance from a different, and less obvious, location. When he was sure she was alone, he slipped up to a space above her and let a note fall in front of her.

He heard her gasp and saw her glance around in an attempt to find the note's deliverer. Of course, she was unsuccessful in this, and after giving up, Marie bent down and picked up the small letter Erik had written before leaving his lair. She broke the skull-shaped wax seal and began to read.

* * *

_Marie,_

_I humbly invite you to join me for tea this afternoon at three o'clock. I know the managers enjoy giving everyone a period of rest after full rehearsals, so I expect you to be in your room when I come for you._

_Your Humble Servant,_

_O.G._

Marie sighed. She had received the note just before lunch, and had promptly lost her appetite after reading it. Instead, she had nibbled on some bread and helped the little ballerinas with their routine until half an hour before she was to meet Erik. Upon reaching her room, she had immediately combed her hair and straightened her dress, right before the clock on her dresser chimed a quarter to three.

Nervously pacing the room, Marie tried to think of what was in store for her when Erik (or possibly, his darker persona of the Ghost) came for her. What could he possibly want from her so soon after having her in his lair for half the night? She highly doubted that he was lonely for her company, especially when they hardly knew one another. But if that wasn't it, then what was it?

She didn't have long to ponder the different possibilities. A moment later, a breeze blew out the candles in the room, plunging her into darkness. Marie let out a terrified squeak before a hand clamped over her mouth, effectively silencing her as another arm reached around her waist, pulling her against a very tall, firm body. Out of instinct, she struggled, trying to get free of her captor.

"Shh, petite, it is I," whispered a familiar, musical voice. Marie instantly relaxed. "Come, let us go."

In mere moments, Marie found herself in the dark, cool caverns behind the Opera House's walls. Erik had lit a small candelabra which he held in his hand, lighting the way as he led her below to his home. As they moved, Marie began to try and engrave their path into her memory so that she might find her own way to his house whenever she wished.

They soon reached Erik's home, where he removed his cloak and tossed it aside on a chair as he led her to a room that smelled full of delicious things to eat and savor. Walking in, Marie was delighted to see a lavish afternoon tea set out on an elegantly carved mahogany table set for two. Warm and cold meats, fluffy pastries, various cheeses and breads were all laid out, and she could not prevent her stomach from growling. After all, she had missed lunch.

Erik gave her an amused look. "Care to join me?" he asked. "It would be a shame to waste all this." The broad smile she gave him was all the answer he needed.

Quickly leaving her side, he moved over to a chair and pulled it out for her, a smile on his lips.

* * *

AN: Tea with Erik…sounds like fun, huh? Well, please review and let me know what you thought! 


	7. Of Tales & Friendship

Disclaimer: As much as I tried to lure Erik to my house, he remains uncatchable, and therefore does not belong to me…yet…

AN: One review, but over 60 hits for my previous chapter. Hmm...that means that something does not add up here. I don't mean to lecture, but I ask for readers to please be considerate to _all_ writers (not just me) and review, whether you enjoyed the chapter or not. After all, it is only fair: you get enjoyment from stories, and writers get pleasure from feedback. But I'm sure you understand the whole process: writers write, reviewers review, reviews encourage writers, etc. Reviews keep everyone happy...kind of like the Circle of Life and all that jazz. But enough of that...

On another topic, I thought I'd mention that (later on) I'm going to speed time up a bit, since I'm eager to get to the film. I'm going to try my hardest to stick to the movie plotline, but if I stray a bit, please be kind since I'm also following my own creative path on this. Meanwhile, enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 7: Of Tales & Friendship**:

Taking a sip of tea, Marie watched Erik's movements over the edge of her cup. He seemed very uncomfortable, and the two had only begun their tea a few moments ago. She kept reminding herself that he was likely unused to having company, but her annoyance at the awkward situation refused to diminish. Besides, this had been the quietest tea that she had ever attended! The ballet girls were always chattering about something or another, but Erik refused to start a conversation. Worse yet, whenever Marie felt the slightest courage to begin speaking, a glance over at her partner showed that it probably wasn't a good idea.

Biting back a sigh, Marie set down her cup and did her best to think of a way to get Erik to speak to her, since he obviously did not want to be the one to take the first step. Looking up, she saw that he was currently staring at the croissant in front of him, as though it held the answers to all of the questions in the universe. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the sight and decided to take matters into her own hands.

"I'm afraid we're intended to have at least _some_ conversation, Erik," she said pleasantly.

Erik jolted in his chair, obviously startled by her words. "What?" he asked, his eyes slightly out of focus.

Marie sighed. "I know that you brought me down here for a purpose, Erik," she said, her voice gentle but slightly impatient. "Did you want me here so that we could talk about what you couldn't bring up in an earlier conversation?"

Green-gold eyes flared to life at her words. "Actually, yes," he said, leaning back in his chair as he looked at her. "I would very much like to speak with you about yesterday."

"What about yesterday?" she asked, looking a bit puzzled.

Erik took a deep breath, as though he were stating the obvious. "I speak of the story that you told the little ballet rats and the gift that you gave me," he said, frowning slightly. "How can you believe in the moral of the story about the Beast so faithfully in a world that despises those who appear different? And what could possibly possess you to present a gift, however small, to the Opera Ghost while standing in his Box?"

Marie chewed her lip in thought as she looked at the half-empty teacup in front of her. She had no idea how to present her reasons to him, especially after he had presented the question and topic so unexpectedly. The fact that he had heard her read the story aloud to the younger girls was rather disturbing, but shouldn't have surprised her, considering that there were hidden passageways woven into the walls of the Opera House. But she felt that she did, indeed, owe him an explanation of her actions, and was willing to give it.

She sighed. "I suppose you know that my sister and I are not actually related by blood?" Erik nodded in reply. "Well, then, I imagine that my behavior towards others is because of my abandonment as a babe."

Erik stared at her in surprise. "Abandonment?" he said, his beautiful voice suddenly going soft.

Marie nodded. "When I had just turned ten-years-old, I knew that there was something different about me," she explained, her eyes glazing slightly as she remembered the tale her father had told her many years ago. "My features of face, body, and hair was, and still is, very much different from all of my family members, and I wanted to know why. So my father told me the story of my background.

"Apparently the man I believed to be my father found me on his doorstep on a cold winter night in England, when he and Mama were touring Europe for his violin performances. At that time, they had been married for several years and they wanted a child very much, but had been unsuccessful in conceiving. They had almost given up hope when there was a knock on the door of the cottage they were staying in at the back of a small English inn. Papa had opened the door and there I was, lying in a basket and wrapped in several blue blankets.

"At first, since my face was not showing, Papa had assumed that I was a bundle of abandoned puppies or kittens that no one wanted. He had then brought me inside so that Mama could take care of me, and it was then that they discovered that it was a baby. They then chose to raise me as their own, and I was very happy with them. They treated me as though I were their birth-daughter and not one that they had merely discovered on their doorstep."

Marie smiled in fondness at her memories. "My sister, Christine, was born after my fifth birthday, and it was the happiest time of my life," she continued, smiling dreamily. "I was so proud to be a big sister, and I took my role in her life very seriously."

"I know," Erik replied, leaning back in his chair. "I saw the way you soothed her fears when you both first came here," he hurriedly explained when Marie looked at him with suspicion in her eyes. "Her cries from her nightmares could literally pierce the walls."

Marie laughed, which seemed to both surprise and please him for some reason. "Well, she was very young back then," she said, still smiling at the man in front of her. "I am glad that she has managed to overcome it, though."

Erik nodded before reaching for the croissant in front of him. "Yet you still have not answered my question," he gently chided her.

A small smile tugged on her lips. "I was coming to that," she replied in a playful tone. "The reason I told them the story is because I feel a…sort of understanding with them about it feels to be different from others, to be cast aside from society for one reason or another."

She saw the anger flash in Erik's green eyes, the gold in them flickering like a deadly inferno just waiting to consume everyone in its path. Marie knew that she had to stop his temper before he did something drastic that he would regret later on.

"Please allow me to explain," she quickly begged the man before her. He nodded, but the anger did not fade from his eyes. "My blood parents cast me out of their lives for no reason I can think of, but I was fortunate enough to find someone to take me into their home and love me. I feel the same pain and sadness as any other outcast, for I sometimes wonder what was so wrong with me that it caused my birth parents to leave me to die on another person's doorstep. For others, they know why they were not accepted; their behavior was too wild, or their minds are not fully developed…"

"Or their faces made differently," Erik snapped, interrupting her. "But your face is whole and perfect while mine is twisted and monstrous."

"But at least you knew for certain why your mother and father felt no love for you!" Marie cried, her voice turning shrill. "I will never be able to ask my parents why they left me to die, never be able to know for certain why they abandoned me the way they did. Was there something that I cannot seem to find about myself that caused them to spurn me and throw me aside? Or perhaps it was because I was born a girl instead of a wanted son and heir? Was I the youngest, and therefore unwanted child of parents who already had too many children to feed? There are so many questions that I have had in the back of my mind, and I will never be able to ask them, for the people who truly know the answers are beyond my reach!"

As she spoke the last word, tears streamed down Marie's now flushed cheeks. "I am not ungrateful to my adopted mother and father," she said, her voice calming as she drew a handkerchief from her pocket and dried her eyes. "My life has been a happy one filled with love, but I have had a difficult one, nonetheless. Twice in life, I have lost two sets of parents and have spent my life caring for Christine as both mother and sister." She gave him a small smile. "And yet, I would not trade it for the world, for I know that there are others less fortunate than myself, and I would rather give them a kind smile than a harsh word. After all, they have had enough of that sort of torment in their lives."

Without another word, Marie turned her attention back toward her teacup and the food in front of her.

* * *

Erik could only sit and stare at the young woman in front of him. Marie Daae was amazingly strong in mind and spirit after having to endure so many traumas in her life, and yet here she was, sipping tea and eating cakes as though she had not just spilled her life story to him! Erik had thought that his life had been hard, but Marie's had been just as bad, and she had been right about many things. 

'_Including me at least **knowing** the reason for being unloved by my parents_,' he mentally spat, trying to keep a sneer from twisting his lips as he thought about his mother and father.

Yes, his _loving_ parents who sold him to the gypsies, likely in the hopes that they might get _some_ use out of the beast that had been borne to them. Immediately after his birth, his mother had paid an elderly woman to care for him, since she herself did not want to even touch her only child. The old woman, Nana, had held him, fed him, cleaned him whenever she felt he was too dirty, and even played or sang songs with him whenever he got restless.

A small smile tugged on the corner of his mouth as his mind drifted to the music box that sat in his room. The monkey that sat on top of the box, two tiny cymbals in its grasp, was the only toy he had ever been given. At first, it had been a rag toy made of bits and pieces of cloth and cotton, but it had been _his_. It had been Nana's first (and only) birthday gift to him, a week before she died. Now it was elegantly re-crafted and dressed in red silks, a neat red cap on its head as it eagerly chimed its accompaniment with the music box that was its throne.

After Nana was gone, and there had been no one else who wanted to take care of him, Erik had found himself behind the bars of a cage in a gypsy caravan, the centerpiece in their show full of terrors and beasts. His parents had brought him there, coaxing him into the night with a single cookie and (what he now knew as false) smiles and loving words. They had delivered him up to the gypsy leader and been rewarded with a pouch full of coins in exchange for Erik and his freedom…as well as his face and name. Instead, they called him by another title…

_The Devil's Child_.

His face (or rather, lack there of) had brought in more patrons than anything else the gypsies had, and been the most terrifying. First, people would gawk at the canvas bag over his head, wondering what was hidden beneath it. Then, once the tent was full enough, the lead gypsy man would pull off the bag, revealing the deformed mass that was his face. Then the screams would start, shortly followed by handfuls of rotten food and stones, perhaps even broken glass to cut his back, when he turned to protect himself from their attacks.

Erik winced and brought his right hand up to his masked cheek. There had been only one person in the crowd who had not screamed at the sight of him, and her name was Antoinette Giry, back then a young girl with the Populaire's _corps de ballet_. She had helped him escape from the nightmare that was his life, stolen him away in the night and tucked him underneath the massive building of the Opera House that was to become his home and sanctuary. Over the years, the numerous caves by the lake found a place in his heart, and became the only thing he was ever able to call home. Meanwhile, a great deal of trial and error during his explorations had helped to better craft the already existing passageways behind the walls, finding forgotten treasures in rooms long sealed up.

And it was there that the Phantom of the Opera had been made.

Breaking into those forgotten supply and costume rooms, Erik had fashioned himself a wardrobe full of elegant clothes that matched those the Opera patrons wore. A mask was made from other materials he had taken from the supply room, and stolen props from the Populaire were taken in between performances to furnish his house by the lake. After that, all that he needed was to set up a haven for the music that had danced through his head since Nana had begun crooning to him in his cradle.

Once again, Antoinette had proved invaluable in procuring the used organ from the Opera House, when a new one had been installed. She had merely informed them that she would take it to a poor, unfortunate soul who loved music and that it would be moved with little trouble to the managers. Within a week, the entire instrument (and all of its spare parts) had been set up for Erik's amusement. After playing the first key, he had never stopped.

The money he had managed to acquire from the Opera managers had come much later, when he was a young man of 25 years. Previously, he had stolen his clothing and music writing materials when he knew they would not be missed, and had waited until just before the daily meals to swipe food from the kitchen when the backs of the cooks were turned. After living so long like a ghost, he decided to make it his occupation. Sneaking around the Populaire was not difficult anyway, so he might as well make a living off of the beliefs of more simpler and superstitious folk.

Stealing into the managers' office, he had left a note in red ink and sealed it with a skull-shaped seal that he had crafted himself. The managers, of course, had laughed off the note and its threat, but had taken him quite seriously when things began to go wrong during preparations for the next production. Missing props, destroyed costumes, and terrified dancers tend to slow things down quite a bit. After that, they had begun to pay him handsomely without question. With his financial future secure, Erik could then devote his entire attention to his music.

At the thought of his music, Erik let his thoughts drift towards the next piece that he had floating through his creative mind.

* * *

While Erik's eyes glazed over in what she assumed was a haze of memories, Marie Daae had finished her tea and was getting impatient to return to her room in the Opera House. Surely _someone_ was looking for her by now! In her years here at the Opera House, she had learned that, curiously enough, people of all sorts tended to look for her at all hours of the day, and would take a lot of trouble to try and locate her if there was an emergency that needed to be taken care of in the dorms or the costume rooms. 

'_Especially if it concerns the little girls_,' she thought with a small giggle. '_They are so adorable when they pout and form a group search for me_!'

Snapping back to the present situation, Marie yawned and looked over at her tea partner. Erik appeared to have stopped focusing on his memories and was now sporting a rather dreamy look on his face, one which made him look very handsome indeed. The gold in his eyes was sparkling merrily as the green seemed to shimmer in an otherworldly manner. His lips were pulled into a joyful smile and his fingers (still clad in gloves) were moving as though they were playing the piano or organ. Marie laughed out loud and the noise seemed to bring Erik back from his dream world. He blushed a little, but the telltale movement at the corner of his lips showed his amusement.

"And just what is so amusing, Mademoiselle?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and resting his right elbow on the arm of his chair, his chin finding its way into the palm of said hand as he gazed at the woman before him.

A gentle, playful smile graced her face as she looked back at him. This was the most relaxed she had ever seen him, though she did not know if that said a great deal or not. Still, it was nice to see him so amused; she could imagine that he likely had not had many cheerful moments in his life.

"I was just thinking that you likely did not know that you play the organ even when you are not actually seated in front of the instrument," she said, giving him a teasing look as she poured herself another cup of tea. Well, she was here, so she might as well enjoy the food and drink he provided.

"You mean I was practicing and I did not even know about it?" he asked, looking genuinely surprised. Marie nodded as he frowned. "Well, that's interesting…that's very interesting."

Marie merely smiled. "As interesting as that may be, I'm afraid I must ask you to return me to my room," she said, gently bringing up the subject. "It may be a day of rest, but there tend to be many things that need to be done before the performance."

Her host nodded his understanding and stood up.

* * *

It did not take long for him to return Marie to her room, and he was quite surprised at the impeccable timing that they had. No sooner had he shut the hidden door behind him than a group of little girls had swept into the room, their voices pleading for Marie to help them with their dance steps, to do their hair nicely, or to help them read their letters from home. 

He watched with envy as Marie organized everyone according to the urgency of their needs and quickly went about putting ribbons or pins in one girl's hair while helping another read through her messages from home. Once the hair and letter troubles were taken care of, the older girl led the entire group to the practice rooms. After everyone was in their practice outfits and in their assigned positions, Marie began to assist them with their steps and their arm movements.

As he watched them prance around the room, Erik could easily see that most of the girls' mistakes were largely due to their small amounts of stage fright. He knew that most (if not all) of them had never been in an opera production before, and it was the idea of being in front of so many people that caused them to misstep or even to fall over. If he hadn't been so understanding of their fright, he would have laughed at the amusing sight of a dozen or so little girls tripping over their own feet.

Eventually, Marie decided they had practiced enough, and that after supper, they could return and attempt the steps again. The little ones all cheered and nodded in agreement before racing off to change, Marie following behind to help them with their clothes.

Once they were out of sight, Erik headed back down to his lair to complete one last thing before the day was done.

* * *

Dinner had been a very exhausting affair that night. Considering the début performance of the younger _corps de ballet_ was approaching, many of the girls were experiencing periods of heightened emotion. Some were nervous, some excited, and some were nearly panicking with the prospect of being onstage for any given amount of time. It was times like this that made Madame Giry thankful for her assistant and her assistant's calming presence. 

Although Marie had endured this several times before, it never seemed to cease in giving her a monstrous headache and a tremendous desire to sleep for a whole day. A mug of soothing tea, however, would help deal with the headache, and the ability to sleep for a whole day would come after the final performance, when the entire Opera House shut down for a week to give everyone time to relax and mentally prepare for the next performance.

Tonight, though, seemed the ideal time for her to sit alone in her room with her cup of tea, a good book, and complete silence after spending the day with a crowd of noisy little girls.

Once she had led the girls to the dormitories, Marie practically ran to get to her room, hoping to shut and lock the door behind her before anyone could snatch her up for some sort of chore or another. Energetic little girls she could handle very well; dealing with the more senior members of the staff was much more difficult, mostly by way of being unable to get away from them once they had caught their target in their grasp.

Finally making it to her room, Marie slipped in and locked the door behind her. She would not have to worry about Christine this night; she was sleeping with the other ballet rats under the watchful eyes of Meg and Hayley (who had only agreed to 'guard duty' after Marie had bribed her with a three small bags of peppermint candy). Tonight, Madame Giry and Marie were free to have the evening to themselves. The younger dancers were going to have a small pre-performance party, and, of course, Christine had wanted to attend it since all of her friends would be there. The Opera House cooks had supplied two large platters of cookies and fruit-filled croissants for them to eat tonight and tomorrow morning. The girls could fetch pitchers of milk whenever they felt it was needed.

Taking a huge sigh of relief, Marie leaned back on the bolted door, savoring the peace and quiet of her room. She noticed, though, that her room smelled strongly of roses. Opening her eyes, she found half a dozen vases of lovely white and yellow roses on every open table space.

Wondering who could have done such a wonderful thing, she spotted a piece of parchment with her name on it center table in the sitting room. She quickly snatched it up and read it, smiling at the message written there.

_From one outcast to another_ – _Erik_.

Marie smiled, plucking a white blossom from a vase and inhaling its wondrous scent.

* * *

AN: Aww, isn't that sweet? Erik has a new friend! I hope that this chapter wasn't too mushy or anything, and that people enjoyed it. Please review and let me know how I'm doing! 


	8. Passing of Time & Disturbing Discoveries

Disclaimer: All things tied to the amazingly sexy Phantom of the Opera are (regretfully) not mine.

AN: Things fast forward quite a bit in this chapter. I think that people have waited long enough for the movie to kick in, and it will in chapter 10. Enjoy the chapter, and please _review_!

**Chapter 8: The Passing of Time & Disturbing Discoveries**:

Years passed, and the friendship that had begun so unusually between Marie Daae and Erik had blossomed into something that neither one could ever imagine being without.

Although the idea of a man and woman becoming close friends was viewed as (at best) scandalous, the two of them didn't really care since no one knew about their friendship in the first place. Marie was happy to have found someone to entertain _her_ rather than _her_ entertaining _them_, as she frequently did with the ballet rats. Erik, meanwhile, was merely glad that she never ran away screaming whenever he removed his mask or (very rarely) lost his temper. He was also pleased to have found someone to share his music and his secret activity as the Phantom with.

During the passage of time, a set of traditions had gradually formed between the pair, and both were always looking forward to those special days they could celebrate together. Neither one knew (or really cared about) who, exactly, had come up with most of the traditions, but the usual birthday and Christmas gifts were always seen to by both parties from the very start. In actuality, traditions can be started even when one does not think about intentionally starting one.

One tradition they had was tea together. The first afternoon tea that Erik had practically dragged Marie to had evolved into something that now happened at least twice a week. Although it ran the risk of her being missed by the ballet rats and (even more frightening) by Madame Giry, Marie was willing to face all of that for a single mentally stimulating conversation with her friend. The little girls (who were quickly becoming older girls) where becoming a bit too silly and rather frustrating to be around, and the teas she had with Erik were a blessing to her mind and her nerves.

Another tradition that pleased them both was celebrating the anniversary of their acquaintance, a tradition which began spontaneously six months into their friendship. Erik, after returning Marie to her room one night after tea, had realized the amount of time that had passed since they had become friends, and had wanted to do something special in remembrance. Upon returning to his lair, Erik had been unable to think of anything beyond giving her flowers, which he had quickly rejected since he had already done so once before.

Instead, he decided to do something better and spend a bit of the money he had embezzled from the Opera managers. When the streets of Paris were dark and only a few shops were still open, Erik had decided to brave both the streets and the risk of public discovery to purchase something for his dear friend. He had quickly slipped inside an expensive-looking store filled with gifts to please a woman's eye. There, Erik purchased a lovely palm-sized porcelain jewelry box. Painted red and white roses covered the sides and top, and gold plating had been delicately placed along the edges of the piece.

When he had presented the gift to her, the surprise and joy in Marie's dark brown eyes had more than been worth being caught by someone. She had even hugged him, which had nearly stopped Erik's heart in his chest. He knew that she had never been given anything this fine and expensive, and had decided on the spot that he would, from then on, present her with beautiful gifts whenever there was a significant day in either their friendship or her life.

Sure enough, six months later, on the one-year anniversary of their friendship, Erik had made the shocking discovery that Marie had no jewelry of any sort. Upset that the jewelry box that he had purchased was going unused, Erik had bought his friend a delicate bracelet of three kinds of silver threads woven artfully together. Touched by the gesture, Marie had promised Erik that, even though she would have to hide the bracelet to prevent any suspicions of it from Madame Giry, she would treasure and wear it whenever she could before storing it in her rose-painted jewelry box. Erik had smiled and replied that, as long as either gift saw some use, he would be happy.

With that said and done, Marie, in turn, had done her best to produce gifts for him that she felt would fit his likes and personality. Unlike Erik and his seemingly endless finances, though, she did not have much money to spare, even though she had been paid for her services since she had begun work at the Opera House. Most of her hard-earned money was put aside for emergency use, and to provide her and Christine with clothes and other necessities. After all, Madame Giry alone could not be expected to pay for the needs of three young women, two of which were not really her daughters!

Instead, Marie had crafted gifts that she felt Erik could use, mostly embroidered handkerchiefs and shirts, and an occasional box of candy that she knew he would enjoy. On very special occasions or significant days, she would give him a decorated mask that he could wear when he felt like _really_ scaring the ballet rats. These were mostly cloth masks with designs in either sparkling sequins or threads, all of it fit together to catch a wayward eye and to terrify the onlooker when they looked directly at the mask and its wearer. Since these were difficult for her to design and give, Erik was always delighted to receive them, and enjoyed a good laugh whenever he was successful in frightening an Opera House worker or performer.

When they weren't meeting for tea or to celebrate a special day related to their friendship, the two did their best to lead normal lives…well, as normal as one could get, being either an Opera Ghost or the close friend of one. In the mornings, Marie helped with many of the _corps de ballet_ classes, since she knew all of the dancers from her own age down to the newest little girls. Her afternoons were spent in the back rooms, taking inventory of fabrics and materials for the opera costumes, since the costume mistresses refused to let the ballet mistress have her for too long. She would then go to her rooms, listen to Christine practice her singing while having a cup of warm milk, and say goodnight to her little sister before going to sleep.

Erik's day tended to be far more erratic, since he was able to do whatever he wished, whenever he felt like it. He composed and played music, created the intricate little models of the latest operas, and painted, drew, or wrote notes to various people within the Opera Populaire. If he was feeling sad or lonely, a quick trip to the flies above the stage while Marie was supervising the dancers easily brought a smile to his face.

Yes, life was good for the two friends, but there was one thing that had always plagued the back of Marie's mind, a question that she had longed to ask Erik from the very beginning of their friendship, but had never found the courage to do so. As time went on, she frequently found herself forgetting to ask until it was nothing but a faded wisp in the back of her memory, occasionally coming forth whenever something reminded her of its existence. Of course, by the time she recalled it, her day with Erik was over, and by the time they met again, the question was long forgotten.

Some things, however, cannot stay forgotten for very long, despite the passage of time. Occasionally, Fate has a way of bringing things to light, and it is not always pleasant.

* * *

Marie laughed as Christine opened her birthday gift. The party for Christine's 18th birthday had finished hours ago, but Marie had told her sister that she would receive her gift after the two of them were alone. Christine had pouted, but when Meg had run up to her and shoved a plate of sweets into her hands, the matter was quickly forgotten. Now, with the party over and the two of them alone in their rooms, Marie watched with an apprehensive eye as her sister tore the simple white paper wrapping from the small wooden box in a hurry to see what it was her sister had given her. A gasp and a loving glance from Christine was all that was needed to assure her love of the gift. 

"A locket?" Christine gasped, unclasping it and quickly moving to kneel in front of her sister, so that she may put it on.

"Not just any locket," Marie said, her heart swelling with pride at her gift and love as she fastened the locket in place. "Look inside."

Christine quickly slid a thumbnail into a small groove in the side and clicked it open. Inside was a painting of their father, his lovely gray eyes staring out at them in love, hope, and happiness. Though Christine's back was to her, Marie knew from the sniffing sounds coming from her sister's face that she was holding back tears. A few moments later, after Christine had controlled herself, she turned around to face the only member of her family that she had left.

"The photo of Papa was getting faded, so I paid one of the set designers paint this for you, so that you can carry him next to your heart always," Marie said, smiling as she gently stroked her sister's face.

"Now he will be with me no matter where I am," Christine said in a delighted whisper. "I'll carry him with me even when my Angel of Music is not with me!"

The reference to Christine's childhood imaginary savior chilled Marie's blood in her veins. She had not thought about the "apparition" of her sister's creative mind since she had met Erik. Oddly enough, the topic had stopped coming up in conversations, even though Christine continued to sing to her older sister at night. Marie had simply thought that the lessons were coming from the vocalists around the Opera House, and since the "Angel of Music" no longer was mentioned, she had assumed that it had vanished when Christine had become accustomed to living at the Populaire.

'_Apparently I was wrong_,' she thought angrily as she kissed her sister goodnight and left for her own room for the evening.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. Hadn't Erik told her that he knew everything that went on in the Opera House? He had said that it was his business to spy on everyone and to see and hear everything that was happening, so perhaps he knew what was going on with this "Angel of Music" that still forced itself on Christine's mind. Erik was sure to know who was taking advantage of her sister, and he would be able to help her stop them. All she would have to do was remember to ask him as soon as she next saw him…

* * *

Erik bit back a curse as he overheard Christine speak about his existence as her Angel of Music. Years ago, after he had first befriended Marie, he had asked her naive younger sister to keep his existence as the Angel secret, primarily in hopes of Marie forgetting that the Angel had ever existed. All he had needed was for time to fade it from her memory, and everything would be perfect. He did _not_ need Marie to discover that the man she trusted as a friend was leading her sister to believe he was an Angel sent by their dead father. If he were revealed as such, she would wish to never see or speak to him again, and Erik knew he could not bear to lose the only true friend he had ever had. 

And now Christine had to innocently remind Marie of his existence. That simple reminder put his friendship with Marie in danger, and there was no way he could possibly lie to her if she were to ask him anything about it. Marie knew everything about him, from his childhood and the cage in the gypsy camp, to Madame Giry discovering him and bringing him to his sanctuary at the Opera House. He could not let her trust in him be betrayed by this one lie.

He made his resolve. If she asked him, he would answer…truthfully.

* * *

The next day, Marie went down to meet her friend for afternoon tea, as usual. However, today she was on a mission, and she would lay it in front of him before they were both too lost in good food and drink to even function properly. She had to do this for Christine's sanity and peace of mind, if nothing else, and to make sure that whoever was taking advantage of her would stop at once. It would break her sister's heart, but this fantasy of hers could not go on for much longer. They had been at the Opera House for over eleven years, and it was time for this game of make-believe to come to an end. 

Slipping into the underground cavern, Marie heard Erik humming a tune as he prepared the tea settings. This would mean that he was in a good mood today; if the day had gone poorly, Erik would be busy ranting and cursing things in Latin and other foreign languages, which would make Marie thankful that she could not understand what he was saying. If he had been angry, Marie would have instantly turned and left, knowing that to speak to him at that point in time was a bad idea.

"Erik?" she called, and was thankful to receive an instantaneous response from the kitchen.

"Yes, _petite_ _ange_?" he called, using the nickname he had given her.

'_Little Angel indeed…because I am so short_,' she thought smiling before recalling why she was here. "Erik, I need to speak with you before I have to leave again!"

Erik immediately poked his head out of the kitchen. "Leave?" he asked, green eyes turning sad.

Marie gave him a smile. "I would have told you sooner, but I did not know when I would be able to catch you," she said. "I'm afraid Madame Giry has a few new dance steps that she needs me to help the older dancers perform, so I will have to miss tea today."

Erik sighed, but his disappointment soon faded to understanding. She knew that, at times like this, he would have liked to use his power as the Ghost and say some choice words to the ballet mistress, but the last thing they needed was for Madame to come down here to yell and lecture to the two of them. Besides, this was not the first time that she would have to miss tea; most of the food would keep for a while anyway, and her position at the Opera House depended on her being where she was needed.

"Very well," he said with a sigh, waving his hand towards the comfortable sitting area that was situated in a room behind his organ.

She followed him in and quickly accepted a seat, extremely glad that Erik had asked her to decorate this room so that it was more homely and inviting for sitting in. It had previously been a storage room filled with stacks of paper, quills, ink, and sealing wax, but was now a nicely decorated room with a blue-and-silver theme. Even Erik had been happy with her taste in décor and the results of her efforts.

Once her friend had accepted a seat as well, Marie took a deep breath and looked him in the eye.

"Erik, I know that you know most, if not all, of the happenings within the Opera House," she said, her words slow and hesitant. "I need you to help me discover something that has been troubling me for years, and something I have not been able to discover the answers to on my own. I do not have the time to do this, nor the money to finance it, so you might say that you are my only hope."

Erik leaned forward in his chair. "Whatever you need, _petite_, I will do for you," he said, his eyes flashing with determination. "You have already done so much for me, the least I could do is return the favor. What is it you want me to accomplish for you?"

Marie took a deep breath. "My sister, Christine, has always had a vivid imagination," she began, looking down at her hands. "After our father passed away and Madame Giry brought us to the Populaire, Christine began tell me about an Angel of Music that she believed our father had sent down from Heaven to help her."

"A few years after she had first spoken of it, Christine seemed to lose interest in her imagined Angel until it got so she never spoke about it again. I thought that she had completely forgotten it, but it seems that Christine had merely stopped talking to me about it, as though she did not want me to know that it still existed." Marie sighed and began to rub her eyes with her hand.

"I need this to stop, Erik," she whispered, pulling her hand away from her eyes and looking up at her friend. "I think that someone may be taking advantage of Christine's innocent mind and I have to stop them. My sister is a sweet girl, but her mind is very much innocent of the evils outside the Opera House, and I fear that someone may be preying on that innocence."

Her brown eyes begged for his aid. "Will you help me?"

* * *

Erik's heart had stopped the moment that his friend had mentioned her sister and the Angel of Music in the same breath. It was too soon to tell Marie the truth, but he could not hide it from her forever; she was bound to find out somehow, and then it would be too late. If she should follow Christine to one of his meetings with her and heard the Angel of Music sing or speak, she would surely recognize his voice, and then things would be even worse than if he should tell her himself. 

'_Marie would likely put a stop to Christine's singing lessons_,' said a panicked voice in his mind.

That could not happen. Christine had the voice of an angel, a voice that could make his music take flight, soaring on glorious wings into the minds and hearts of a captive opera audience. It was a talent that few possessed, and one that should not be let go easily. In many ways, she brought his music to life, and he could not let such a precious thing wither and die in front of him.

In his mind, Erik knew he could make Christine a star, one of the greatest that the Populaire had ever known, a star that could rival all of the greatest singers in Europe and the Americas! She had grown up marvelously, with brown curls that shone in any light and her lovely gray eyes that sparkled with an innocence that he found endearing. Marie had lost much of that innocence in caring for her sister and the ballet rats, but Christine seemed to have it in abundance.

It was time to make a choice, but he knew not which one to make. Whether he told her the truth or not, Marie was going to be furious with him for "toying" with her sister's mind and beliefs, and might even tell her sister what had actually been happening all those years. It would tear Erik's heart to shreds if one or both of the Daae girls ended their bond with him, and he didn't know if he would be able to hold onto his sanity if he lost the two most central people in his life in one stroke.

Sighing, Erik closed his eyes and prepared himself. For better or worse, the truth would have to be told, and it would have to be told now. It might break him, but he would beg for forgiveness and do anything he had to in order to keep both young women in his life.

He opened his mouth and took a deep breath.

* * *

AN: Uh, oh, cliffhanger! Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please review, it let's me know how I'm doing and whether people are enjoying the story or not. Thanks! 


	9. Heartache

Disclaimer: I (regretfully) own nothing Phantom. Leroux, Webber, and Kay all own it…lucky stiffs.

AN: Important note: some people might be confused in distinguishing thoughts from flashback quotes. _**"**These**"**_ (with quotes) are flashback sentences, and '_these'_ (non-quotes) are thoughts.

Also, I know that there is the possibility that some readers are probably going to hate me and think that this is a "Mary Sue" chapter or story. So, to head off any possible flames from readers, here is my defense of my original character. (If you would like to read my hopefully unnecessary defense, proceed reading this author's note. If not, jump ahead to the chapter.) My understanding is that Mary Sues are "perfect at everything" that has meaning in that particular universe (for instance, in the Phantom-verse, music and art). Marie is not even remotely good at anything musical or artistic; she just sews costumes, is a practically a well-paid babysitter for the younger ballet rats, and is a good person. That's it. She _does not_ dance, sing, play an instrument, or possesses anything resembling the artistic talents that traditionally attract Erik. Therefore, in my mind, she is _not_ a Mary Sue. Further arguments may be made to me via e-mail (included on my bio page). Enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 9: Heartache**:

Marie was in a state of shock as she made her way up to the Opera House.

"_Marie, _**I**_ am Christine's Angel of Music_."

She could hardly believe it. As she walked, Marie's heart shattered into countless pieces. The man she had trusted with _everything_ had kept something like this from her! She had trusted him to keep her and Christine safe, mentally and physically, from all of the goings-on at the Populaire, and he had betrayed the trust she had placed in him! But it wasn't just that Erik had betrayed her trust…no, it wasn't just that.

A sudden coldness began to fill the void where her once-whole heart had been, the chill spreading throughout her chest as tears began to fall from her eyes.

'_I love you, Erik_,' she wailed in the back of her mind, hoping that he was able to hear her, despite the distance between them.

But she would never, _could_ never, tell him that. Not after learning what she had. The fact that he was manipulating Christine hadn't broken Marie's heart…it was the fact that it was Christine he preferred over her that did it. He had not said so in those exact words, but it was all implied when Erik had spoken of why he had done what he had.

"_Christine has the making of a true opera star_," he said, green eyes blazing with excitement as he explained it all to her. "_Her voice will make the Opera Populaire greatly known throughout the world_! _Her beauty shines like a star in the heavens; people will come from far distances to hear her sing and see her perform as the great Prima Donna she was meant to be_!"

'_And why shouldn't he wish the best for Christine_?' Marie thought in despair.

At 18 years of age, Christine had everything that her sister did not. She was young, talented in dance and song, graceful, and beautiful. She was tall and lithe, with long legs that were perfect for a ballerina, and her hair was a cloud of lovely curls framing a perfect, sweet face. She had glowing skin, and gray eyes that were edged with long lashes and filled with an attractive innocence that drew people to her. Who was Marie to compete with her sister?

'_I cannot dance, and even Father told me that my singing would be mundane, at best_,' Marie thought, biting back tears as she slipped into her room and swung the door shut behind her. '_Christine was always asked to sing along with Papa as he played while I sat and listened, only joining in during the chorus of country songs_.'

If only her life were like the fairy tales in her books, like the tale of Cinderella! But the dear Cinder Girl was already lovely beneath the soot and rags, and had wicked stepsisters that were spoiled beyond saving. Marie was far from attractive, and even though Marie tended to spoil her when she could, Christine was far from wicked. Therefore, the younger girl could hardly be called a 'brat.' In this case, the roles were reversed, though not to the extremes. Christine had the beauty and the handsome man interested in her, and Marie would be the older sister foster sister that would take care of the lovely offspring that she and Erik would produce once he won her over.

Marie winced at the thought of Erik marrying and having a happy family life as she looked on from afar. She did not doubt that, together, her sister and the dashing Phantom would have incredibly beautiful children, male or female.

'_It's not as though there is anything wrong with either of them_,' she thought, taking a seat on her bed before stretching out on it completely. '_After all, only a small part of Erik's face is different; the rest of him is just fine_.'

Marie caught herself blushing as she reflected on _that_ thought. She had once visited the lair when Erik had been in the midst of changing shirts, and that had been the single most embarrassing (and thrilling) day of her life. Erik had blushed and gaped in surprise as she had tried to stammer an apology before leaving the room. He had later lectured her on entering his home without knocking, and she had countered it with the fact that he had an alarm for his home, one that was meant to alert him when visitors were approaching. Marie had then declared that his hearing must have been fading, if he hadn't heard the telltale chiming from the alert bell. However, while they had been talking, Marie had done her best not to think of what she had just observed moments before.

From what she had seen, Christine should have no objection to Erik. Apparently the deformity that he had been born with was solely on his face; the rest of him resembled the drawings of the strong, muscular Greek gods that she had seen in books. Running through the passageways, climbing the ropes, and carrying away heavy props had left Erik in perfect physical shape, one that could be admired by any woman, despite what he looked like.

'_After all, I've seen what he looks like under that mask_,' she thought, staring at the ceiling of her room. '_And I've taught others not to judge based on appearances, so why wouldn't Christine be attracted to the man who has made her voice come to life_?'

Visions of Christine being wooed by Erik as he swept her away to his beautiful lair seemed to stab Marie in the heart. There was no possible way to _not_ envision them together. With the two of them being so tall, her Christine was of the right height to fit into Erik's arms perfectly.

'_I should know_,' she thought, drifting back to a year ago, just after her 22nd birthday.

Erik had discovered that Marie did not know how to dance, and had offered to teach her as a gift. Madame Giry had taught Erik how to move about the dance floor as the Opera patrons did, and he was more than happy to teach Marie in turn. The moment he had swept her into his arms and guided her into her first dance step, she knew that she had fallen in love with him. He had always treated her so wonderfully, so sweetly, rarely raising his voice (but never his hand) in anger, and always handling her as though she were made of something delicate and precious. It was enough to make her go home every night immediately after those dance lessons and sigh dreamily as she got ready for bed.

'_But now all of that attention will be falling to Christine_,' Marie thought, letting tears fall. '_I will always be his first and only true friend…he will never see me as anything else_.'

And yet, Marie could not hate her younger sister. Christine was such an innocent girl, too good for the harsh, brutal world existing outside of the Opera House, and would always need someone to take care of her. Erik's magical underground home, though it was not the home Marie had in mind for her, could shelter Christine away from the dangers that lurked just outside the doorway. With the large income that he embezzled from the managers, Erik could provide a very comfortable life for her.

'_They deserve one another_,' she thought, giving in to defeat. There was no possible way that she could compete with her sister. To make his life easier, she would do her best to avoid Erik so that he could focus all of his time on wooing Christine.

Rolling over onto her side, Marie closed her eyes against more tears and fell asleep.

* * *

Erik watched from behind the wall as she fell asleep, gazing at the head of brown locks before going to check on her sister. It was astounding how one Daae could be so innocent and trusting while the other possessed such an old and open soul. Marie was still young of heart, but still held an otherworldly wisdom within her heart, one that allowed her to gaze upon his face with no sign of hatred, fear, or disgust. Would Christine ever look upon him like that? 

Erik bit his lip as he carefully peered into the room. Another head of dark hair lay upon a white pillow, the sound of deep breathing a sure sign that the other girl slept as well. No, he wasn't sure whether Christine, dear, innocent, angelic Christine, would look upon him the same way as her older sister did. Would her eyes fill with terror and fear where her sister's had not? Would she even be able to touch him? Perhaps, if her upbringing had been slightly different, it might be possible.

In the eleven years she had lived at the Populaire, Christine Daae had spent far too little time with Marie, and far too much time with the babbling, intelligence-lacking ballet rats. When she should have been listening to Marie talk about morals, Christine had instead heard far too many terrifying tales about the legendary Opera Ghost. She had heard every single story that could be dreamt up by the pesky _corps de ballet_ about the terror he spread throughout the Opera House, and was just as frightened of him as everyone else was.

Erik grit his teeth. He would have to work a great deal harder to persuade her differently. Perhaps he could use the same techniques he did when he and Marie had first begun their friendship? Flowers, trinkets, and frequent visits for tea might just do the trick…

'_No, I couldn't_,' he thought, shaking his head as he turned to head for his home. '_What I did for Marie was for her alone_. _I will not dishonor that by using it for another purpose_.'

Suddenly, the thought of Marie burned his heart. After he had revealed that he was Christine's Angel of Music, there had been a silence so thick that he could have cut it with a knife. Marie had been stunned, to say the least, and he had done everything he could to apologize for misleading both her and her sister. However, before she had left in a state of shock, hurt, and tears, Marie seemed mostly upset about his taking advantage of Christine and using her talents for his own purpose.

But that wasn't why he had done it. Although it was thrilling to think of Christine singing his music with her angelic voice, the reason Erik had taught her to sing was because it seemed a shame to waste such talent. Christine could only go so far with her dancing: she was not so extraordinarily gifted in ballet that she could make a true living off of it as a prima ballerina. At best, she'd be in the front lines until an ankle twisted, or she grew too old to keep her place.

With song, the possibilities were astounding. Since he had first heard her sing hymns to her dead father in the chapel, Erik knew that, with the correct training, Christine could be a Prima Donna. True, she would have to make a debut first, but he had no doubts that she could soar straight to the heavens as a rising star, traveling the world and seeing places she had only read or heard tales about. Once she was a success, Christine could make a handsome amount of money, possibly enough to retire early and live on for the rest of her life, should she chose to do so.

'_But first, I would have to acquire her a lead roll…and that would take a great deal of planning_,' he thought as he walked into the open cave by the lake.

But the other thing, besides Christine's future as a star, was how Erik was going to make this up to Marie…

* * *

The next morning, Marie felt terrible. Her eyes were crusted over from her dried tears, and her heart still lay in a million shattered pieces within her breast. Still, life must go on, and go on she would. 

'_Right after I bathe and brush my hair_,' she thought, putting her hand on her brown mess of hair. '_I swear that birds could nest in here_!'

After taking a quick bath, painfully tugging a comb through her brown locks, and putting on a green dress, Marie flew downstairs to grab a croissant before ballet practice. Today they would have to get back in shape after a rather long gap between performances. It was taking the manager longer than usual to choose an opera, and he was to announce it either today or, at the latest, within the next week. As a result of the unusually long rest period they had been given, Madame Giry (as per tradition) instructed every single dancer to be in the practice room to practice all of the basics. They could be sure to work themselves to collapse today, in order to be prepared for any opera that might be chosen. Every position would be practiced time and again until each girl thought they would go mad from the work and exhaustion, but Madame Giry would not rest until she was sure of the fitness of her dancers.

Walking towards the dance rooms, Marie braced herself for the worst. It was _her_ door that the girls would knock on, bringing with them complaints, worn out or uncomfortable toe shoes, and an ear that would hopefully listen to tales about what each girl did during their time off from the Populaire. Thankfully, after a day or two, the girls would soon be too tired to pay her visits, and her nights would be quite and content. Another thing she was thankful for was the fact that she would not be needed in the costume rooms until after an opera had been chosen.

Today's practice was exhausting for everyone, Marie included. Although she was merely there to help position the girls and call out the mistakes they made, both she and Madame could clearly see how lazy the girls had become during their lack of exercise and practice. A mere hour into the practice, Marie heard the intimidating ballet mistress mutter something about banning pastries and sweets from the dormitories until the girls could keep themselves in perfect dancing order.

After a small rest for lunch, Marie returned to the practice rooms and was astonished to find that the dancers had all been moved to the stage to practice, which was rather unusual. Moving them to the stage when there wasn't even an opera was chosen told her that there would be some specific selecting when it came to the dancers of the next opera. It wasn't that unusual, but it was not something that happened frequently, either.

Marie groaned. Preferences for certain parts in an opera would only lead to arguments backstage later, usually during dance practice. On occasion, an opera would call for people of the same age, height, hair color, or (on one particularly embarrassing occasion) the same chest size. Marie refused to remember what had happened after the dancers for that performance! Many girls had tried desperate ways to appear "bigger" in order to be onstage, but all they had managed was to amuse the manager and patron to no end.

A quick observation quickly told that some severe fights were due to happen in the future. Apparently only the girls that were the most attractive, most exotic-looking, or both, were onstage, all in their dance leotards. A quick glance showed that Christine was among them, and Marie beamed with pride as her sister performed the best of her abilities. All of them were moving in fairly good syncopation, and bore the typical "stage smile" that Madame Giry had drilled into their heads, one of the many facades that made them appear more expressive while they dance. A few minutes of dance, and they stopped, their performance complete. Marie joined the woman who was both mother and teacher to her on the side of the stage. She saw Madame roll her eyes, and Marie didn't know whether to wince or laugh in reply. Apparently Madame was to have no say in who was to be cast in this production, and the two of them would have to work extra hard to coordinate the girls for the performance.

'_Just because a girl has a lovely or exotic face does not make her a good dancer or a prima ballerina_,' Marie thought, quoting Madame with a smile. '_In nearly all cases, a **horse** would have more grace_.' She chuckled, remembering the furious argument the ballet mistress and one dancer had one night, after the girl had demanded a place onstage.

The topic for that fight was obvious. Too many girls thought that their pretty face or (sometimes) a wealthy family member could get them a place on the stage. Occasionally, it was possible, but for the most part, Madame Giry claimed that she would sooner put a lame horse in dance shoes onstage than some of the dancers she taught. Eventually, the girls soon learned Madame's ways and did their best to please her, but occasionally, someone tried their best to make themselves the star of the show.

Once the stage was clear, Monsieur LeFevre came onstage and smiled at everyone. The entire Opera House went quiet as he took his place in the center of the stage to address them.

"As you know, I have taken a great deal of time to choose the next piece that the Populaire will be performing," he said, projecting his voice to the furthest corner of the immense room. "Today, I have chosen one of the most exotic, and most lavish, operas that we have ever performed, one which has never before been done here in Paris."

Murmurs of excitement and nervousness flooded the room before Monsieur LeFevre clapped his hands and demanded their attention once more.

"Everyone will be expected to work their hardest to make this a success," he said, casting his eyes over everyone. "Each and every prop, backdrop, and costume must be made with the utmost extravagance and detail in order to live up to the exquisiteness of this performance."

"What opera will we putting on, sir?" called out a scene painter.

"Hannibal," was the answer.

* * *

AN: Okay, everyone gasp in delight or shock…the movie will be kicking in right after this! The storyline from the film will be followed to the best of my abilities, but it will also be twisted to fit whatever is going on in the tangled mess that is my brain. Please show your support and love by reviewing! Thanks! 


	10. An Unexpected Debut

Disclaimer: All things tied to the musical/book Phantom of the Opera are (regretfully) not mine.

AN: Finally, the movie begins! I'm not going to copy the film (or the book) word-for-word because, if I did, then it wouldn't be my own story, now, would it? Let's just see what Fate (a.k.a.: my muse) has in mind for everyone, hmm? Enjoy the chapter, and please leave a lovely review.

**Chapter 10: An Unexpected Début**:

Marie stood before Madame Giry with a scowl on her face. Today she had read over the script with the costume mistresses and had been horrified at what the ballet dancers were required to wear during this opera's performance.

"I really must protest, Madame," she said, crossing her arms over her chest as she had often seen Madame do in the past. "I refuse to allow my sister to wear such an inappropriate costume…if it could indeed be referred to as a costume."

Madame Giry frowned at her in return, but it was quickly cast aside for a surrendering sigh. "I dislike the idea of Meg and Christine donning such clothing as well, _petite_, but it is out of my hands," the older woman replied, giving her a sympathetic look. "It was written that way in the script, and to change it would require changing the entire storyline of that scene."

"Then have them choose another opera!" Marie cried, uncrossing her arms in order to throw her hands up in the air.

"Enough!" snapped Madame, who was satisfied to see Marie cower a bit at the ballet mistress' tone. "I cannot change the manager's mind, you know that. The costumes will stay as they are in the script, and you are not to take any liberties and alter them to your own personal tastes, are we understood?" Marie nodded. "And do not think for one moment that I am going to remove your sister from her dancing in the opera, either. I need the best and Christine is one of the most knowledgeable in the group selected to dance. She may be a bit clumsy once in a while, but she is still good."

Marie sighed and nodded, but did not look happy about it. Madame walked over and placed a gentle hand on the shoulder of the young woman she considered a daughter.

"If it consoles you, Christine is as uncomfortable with this as you are," she said in a soft voice reserved only for the three girls she considered family. "But she has resolved to go through with it because it is part of what is required for a ballerina. I know you would protect her from this, but it cannot be so."

"Because it is a part of life," Marie whispered, quoting what Madame had always told her.

"Exactly," Madame said, a slight bit of kindness in her tone.

Marie looked up and saw a small, proud smile on her face just before her foster mother kissed her on the forehead and left her to her own devices. Sighing, Marie turned and headed for the costume rooms, passing several happy stagehands who were busy snickering behind their hands and giving each other winks and friendly nudges in the side.

'_They probably heard what the costumes for the dancers will be and are rejoicing on it_,' she thought, fuming. '_They will likely try their best to sneak into the dressing rooms during the costume fittings just to get a peek_!'

Of course, if they tried anything with Christine in the room, Marie would not hesitate to knock some sense into their heads. Small though she was, Mademoiselle Marie Daae was renowned for hitting a man hard enough to see stars. Many stagehands, Joseph Bouqet included, had found themselves with large lumps on the sides of their heads after trying to "persuade" a ballet dancer to join them for the evening. Marie was not one to allow a woman to be raped, not if she had something to say about it.

'_Especially not after what one of the men had tried to do to Christine_.'

Marie's blood boiled at that memory. She had been coming back to her room from a meeting with the costume mistresses when she had spotted her sister trapped in a corner by one of the newly hired men. He had been more of an older boy, though, but he had been tall and confident that the dancers could hardly resist him. He had singled out Christine because she had been alone when he had encountered her in the hallway leading towards the wing that all men were forbidden to go: Madame Giry's collection of rooms

Marie had taken one look at her sister's terrified face and snapped. Just as the young man's hand had found Christine's arm, Marie had reached out and grabbed the man's ear and hair, pulling him way from her sister. Once released from her grip, he had turned to face his attacker and had laughed to see a young woman a little over 5'3" standing in front of him. The man had made the mistake of reaching forward to grab her and had received several hard blows to the face. A moment later, he was unconscious on the floor and a still-vexed Marie had to calm down a nearly hysterical Christine. The next day, the young man had been tossed out of the Populaire, never to return. After that, most of the stagehands remembered to keep their greedy, lustful hands and advances to themselves…at least until they were sure their feelings were returned by the girl (or _girls_) they were pursuing. Some, like Bouqet, refused to learn their lesson and had to be watched carefully at all times.

Once the men were out of sight, Marie turned her focus to what must be done for the upcoming opera. She and Madame would have their hands full just trying to choose the best dance steps and keeping the men away from the dancers while they practiced! Apparently this opera consisted of a more Arabian style, where the women (or in this case, girls) were harem dancers or slaves, and had to move seductively and gracefully while clad in revealing costumes.

'_The costume mistresses are going to have an apoplexy_,' Marie thought with a wince as she approached the doors to the sewing rooms.

"Oh, Marie!" cried Madame Rosetta, the chief designer. "Have you _seen_ the sketches that they gave us for the newest opera performance? Well, they didn't _give_ them to us, merely laid them out on the large desk in the corner in a blue folder, but have you _seen_ them?"

"Yes, have you?" squealed Lauren, her assistant. "They are absolutely scandalous!"

Marie bit back a wince and a groan. "Yes, Madame Rose and Lauren, I have seen them," she said in as calming a tone as she could. "And I dislike them as much as you do, but there is nothing we can do about it." She held up her hands to stall any protests. "I have made complaints to Madame Giry, and she has in turn informed me that Monsieur LeFevre will not allow any changes to be made. Therefore, we will have to do as is ordered in the script and by our manager."

The other two women muttered a few curses, but conceded defeat on the matter. Finally, they all gathered around and began chatting over what material was to make up what part of the costume and how often the girls would have to be measured in order to make everything fit properly. Marie usually enjoyed this part best of all, but the mere thought that her dear sister would have to actually be wearing one of these very revealing outfits seemed to leech the fun out of the makings of this opera.

'_Perhaps if someone influencing enough spoke up, they would at least let us alter the costumes. I should ask Erik if he could_-'

Her thought died in its tracks at the mere mention of Erik. He was beyond her grasp now. He obviously wanted Christine…she had seen the look in his eyes at the mere mention of her name: the hope of her being a successful singer, widely known and singing his music…

Marie violently pushed all thoughts aside and joined in on the banter over the costumes.

* * *

A week into planning the opera, Marie discovered that the soprano La Carlotta was returning to the Opera Populaire. Apparently (for some reason beyond most of the staff's comprehension) Monsieur LeFevre had begged the heavily Latin-accented woman to return from her summer home in Spain. She had fled there last winter after one particularly unhappy encounter with the Opera Ghost, and most had thought her gone for good. Apparently the Ghost had tried to cause her to fall through a trap door in the floor, but had failed because she had been called aside by one of her hungry, and annoyingly loud, dogs. After that, she had screamed her hatred of the place and run. The staff had been thrilled, but Monsieur LeFevre had been beside himself with trying to find a replacement. 

And now Carlotta was coming back. For years the Opera Ghost (it was easier now for Marie to think of Erik as the Ghost) had tried to pry the diva out of the Populaire, and now she had returned. Well, at least now Marie would get some amusement in watching terrible things happen to the screechingly terrible soprano. Carlotta had a habit of treating everyone like her own personal slave, though she seemed to like ordering Marie and the ballerinas about more than anyone.

'_Probably because each one of us has more talent in one finger than Carlotta has in her whole body_,' she thought. '_Even worse is that she's bringing her lover back with her_.' Marie shuttered and twisted her lips with disgust.

Signor Piangi, he was called, and he was supposedly a great singer from either Italy or Spain, no one knew which. From past observation and experience, the Populaire's occupants could tell that anyone with a heavy accent was doomed to be misunderstood for much of the performance. It had happened before, and everyone had enjoyed laughing at the man who managed to mispronounce nearly half of the script. Plus, the man was far from resembling an opera star; Piangi had grown fat over the years, and a person would be a complete liar if they said he was what they imagined an opera male star to be.

Marie rolled her eyes as she made her way back towards Christine's room to help her sister brush her hair. It really was amazing how tangled her sister's hair could get after only one day. However, upon reaching the door and hearing voices within, Marie paused before knocking or opening it.

"Remember to practice the higher notes, Christine," declared a familiar, musical, _male_ voice. "It is very important for you to do so."

'_Erik_!' Marie thought, holding back a gasp. '_What is **he** doing here at this hour_?'

"I will, Angel," Christine said, a humble, obedient tone to her voice. "I will do everything you ask."

Marie held back tears as she quickly knocked on the door. "Christine!" she called. She heard a gasp from her sister, but spoke before her sister could do anything else. "I am not feeling well tonight! My head hurts, so I am going to bed early! I will see you in the morning!"

"Yes, Marie!" Christine called back, her voice only slightly tinged with fear, probably at her secret angel almost being discovered. "Until tomorrow!"

Marie then turned and headed back towards her room, changing quickly and jumping into bed, allowing herself to drift off the sleep quickly before tears could fall.

She did not feel a gloved hand reach out to caress her hair goodnight.

* * *

Rehearsals went on as planned, and the costumes caused much dislike amongst those who were working on them. Lauren was surprised at Marie's faded protests against the costumes, but was satisfied when the other girl mere stated that they could do nothing about it now, since the opera was so deep in preparation. Lauren had given in, but still muttered protests against it under her breath. 

The dancers who had been ruled out of the main parts of the performance, but at least were in the background, disliked where they were, but knew better to complain. Marie was too busy helping with costumes and the dancers in the lead rolls that trying to get a sympathetic ear from her proved impossible. And of course, Madame Giry showed no pity to any of her undeserving dancers. In the end, the girls merely bore their dance situations and kept their complaints for one another to hear.

Now was the third week of practice, and the opera was extremely close to being performed. However, mishaps had been happening to backdrops, props, and, especially, La Carlotta. Marie (as well as everyone else) knew it was the Ghost, and that he was obviously unhappy with the fact that the diva had returned. Marie, however, was just relieved that he had never tangled with the costumes after the two of them had become friends. She hated putting ruined costumes back together, and Erik knew that, and so the costumes were always left as they were.

Sighing, Marie watched from the side as the dancers practiced in costume, Christine included. Madame Giry stood next to her as Monsieur LeFevre and two other gentlemen, one thin and the other sort of portly, came onto the stage.

"Everyone," M. LeFevre called, looking over the stage performers. "You all know that I am retiring as of this week. This is M. Firmin," the thin man bowed, "and M. Andre," the other man bowed. "They are here as your new managers."

"And our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny," declared M. Firmin.

Marie frowned. Where had she heard that title before? As she turned her head around to get a better look at the personage that currently tugged on her memory strings, a much younger man stepped up beside the two new managers. Inwardly, Marie groaned. The young man was handsome in every possible way. Tall, with shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes, as well as an air of charm and wealth, she would be hearing gossip and giggling from the ballet rats for months.

The Vicomte smiled at the entire crowd. "I am thrilled and honored to fund such a dazzling group of performers," he said, his voice rich and full.

"Would you like to see a small demonstration of the opera?" M. LeFevre offered the three of them. The men nodded and the performers took their places.

Marie watched the expressions on the men's faces as the piece began. La Carlotta and her lover, Piangi, broke out into their songs, which made many of the observing crew roll their eyes and make jokes behind the lead soprano's back. Under the scrutinizing gaze of Madame Giry, the _corps de ballet_ dancers took their places and struck their dramatic poses before going into their routines. As she kept an eye out for missteps, Marie overheard the compliments being made by the new patron and managers to Madame. Curious, she strained her ears a bit to hear what was being said.

"…that little blonde angel," commented M. Firmin.

"My daughter, Meg Giry," Madame declared, sounding like the proud mother she was.

"And that exceptional beauty? No relation I trust," Firmin continued.

"Christine Daae. A promising talent, Monsieur," the ballet mistress said, suddenly becoming protective. Marie smiled. Madame always became suspicious of anyone who inquired after more than one of her dancers, especially about Meg, Christine, and Marie.

"Daae? Any relation to the Swedish violinist?" the new manager pressed.

"His daughter, the youngest of two girls," Madame Giry explained. "However, she is Gustave Daae's only birth daughter. The other, his eldest, is his adopted daughter, Marie. Both were orphaned early, Marie at twelve, and Christine at seven. Marie is my dance assistant."

Marie glanced out of the corner of her eye and spotted the managers and patron looking over at her. The managers she pushed out of her head at once. It was the patron, the Vicomte de Chagny, that had her attention. She swore that she had seen him before somewhere…those honest blue eyes and held her gaze before he turned and left the theater…

"_Raoul_?" she gasped, staring back at the back of the young man.

How could she forget the darling boy that they had met on the coast bordering between France and Spain? Papa had taken them there two years before he died, hoping that bright sunshine and the warm Mediterranean waters would be a good experience for them all. On the third day of the Daae's stay there, Christine had lost a scarf that Marie had given her for her fifth birthday. The wind had carried it into the waves, and a little boy had run out to get it for her. After that, little Raoul and Christine had been friends and playmates until life called them home.

'_I wonder if Christine still remembers him_,' Marie wondered, glancing towards her sister.

The little 'rehearsal' had been going splendidly until M. Andre requested that Carlotta sing an aria from Act Three. Marie had inwardly winced as others had showed their protest more visibly and plugged their ears; Carlotta always reached her worst screeching voice when she sang the aria. Thankfully, she got only a few lines into it…before a backdrop nearly landed on her head.

Marie didn't know whether to laugh or cry. In the past, she'd had to try her hardest not to burst out laughing every time Erik did his best to drive Carlotta away. Now, the mere thought of him caused her to choke on her own breath. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Marie decided to let out a tiny chuckle. Thankfully, no one heard, as they were all too busy trying to calm down the opera diva. From her spot at the side of the stage, Marie saw M. LeFevre make his escape while he could. Meanwhile, Carlotta screamed accusations of the managers' neglect for her well-being over the years, and walked out with her entourage. Once all of the noise had settled, Madame Giry came up to the new managers, a letter in her hands.

'_Directions_,' Marie thought, deciding to ignore the puzzled expressions of M. Firmin and Andre. '_The typical demand for money, Box 5, and the threat to do harm if his requests are not met_.'

Sure enough, explosions of protests from the new managers soon followed, but these were soon pushed aside for the panic of who was to perform at the gala that night. With no diva/soprano/female lead, there could be no opera performance; it would be a financial disaster for the Opera House.

"Christine Daae could sing it, sir," came Madame's voice, shocking Marie out of her daze.

"_Christine_?" cried Firmin. "A chorus girl?"

"She has been well taught," declared Madame.

Wondering how Madame knew about Christine's talents, Marie watched as her little sister was shoved towards the front of the stage. She was trapped, not knowing whether to pray for Christine's success or failure. If Christine did well, Erik would be hers and she would be a star; if she failed, both she and Marie would be the laughingstock of the Opera House. Marie held her breath and waited.

And Christine sang.

Crystal clear notes like those of an angel's voice drifted up to dance with the orchestra's music, blending together in perfect harmony. Everyone, including Marie, stared in amazement as Christine's beautiful voice filled the theater. Never had she heard her sister's voice this clearly, this perfect. At night, they had merely been notes, lullabies, practice songs. This was much more than that…

Marie's heart broke. Christine was easily Erik's musical equal, which he had likely seen many years earlier. His disguise as the Angel of Music had allowed Christine to reach her fullest potential, and she could easily make his work known throughout the music world. Marie could not do that; she was useless to him. She had no talent in music or dance, and was no artist.

'_It's hopeless_,' she thought, her vision suddenly turning watery as Christine continued singing. '_After tonight, Erik will never want me down in his lair to visit him again_.'

Once Christine made her debut at the gala, Marie would be pushed aside as Erik's friend. He would likely want his young protégé with him as much as possible so that she could learn all that he had to teach her. If Erik played his cards correctly, Christine would be as madly in love with the dear Phantom as her sister was.

'_And likely married after the New Year Masquerade is over_,' Marie thought, biting her lower lip as Christine finished _Think of Me_, ending it perfectly on the high note.

That was how it would be, and she would have to accept it. She would have nothing to offer Erik after he wooed Christine, except perhaps to look after the perfectly beautiful children they would have together. Auntie Marie, they would call her. No doubt she would be the perfect aunt and caretaker of the little darlings while Erik wrote his music and Christine sang her accompaniment to his instrumental playing. Marie would watch in envy as the two (literally) made beautiful music together in the cave by the lake.

The cast, crew, managers, and ballet mistress all applauded enthusiastically. From the side, Marie watched as the costume mistresses flocked towards Christine, eager to adjust the extravagant outfits that she would now have to be fitted for. Sighing, Marie drew herself up straight and approached her sister's side as Christine gave her a look that practically begged for her older sister's approval. Marie did the only thing any sister would do in a situation like that.

She smiled as best she could.

* * *

AN: It begins! I found the script online, and will sort of use it as a guide, but the rest will be my creative mind at work. Please let me know how I did with this chapter! Thanks! 


	11. Before the Gala and After

Disclaimer: I (regretfully) own nothing Phantom. Leroux, Webber, and Kay all own it…lucky stiffs.

AN: I forgot to mention that I'm not going to put lyrics in my story since I don't want it to be deleted because of my using them. However, if it's necessary, I will put in a lyric or two, but no more than that. Also, I'm sorry to say that Christine _does not_ go to Erik's lair in this story. I know it might mess up things a bit, but I'm trying to be original and not copy the film too much. Enjoy!

**Chapter 11: Before the Gala and After**:

Once it had been decided that Christine would replace Carlotta (albeit temporarily), Marie ushered her sister to the diva's dressing room so that she could make the required adjustments on the costumes. Marie made soothing conversation while she worked quickly, regardless of Christine's fidgeting and nervous outbursts.

"Really, Christine, you're worse than the ballet rats during their first performance!" Marie huffed, her tone playful despite her words. "You have a wonderful voice, and you obviously know the music by heart." She carefully placed one last pin to even out the hem of the white gown for the end of the performance. "Honestly, you have nothing to worry about!"

"I know, but I want to make you proud of me," Christine said, her voice turning small and vulnerable.

Marie looked up. Her sister's face was pale even for her, and tears filled her gray eyes. Her hands trembled with nervousness, and her breathing was rapid. Smiling, Marie stood up and wrapped her arms around the girl who had been the center of her life from the moment she was born.

"You _will_ make me proud," she whispered into her baby sister's ear. "Never did I think you could ever come so far. And yet, here you are, a star!" Marie pulled back and gave Christine a kiss on the forehead. "Now, no tears, and no more worries," she declared, managing to get a smile from the new opera star. "Are you ready? It starts in a matter of hours, and I _still_ need to get your costumes fitted!"

Christine nodded and quickly slid out of the tremendous (though beautiful) glowing white gown and into a robe before going to rest in the large adjoining bedroom. Shaking her head, Marie gathered up her tools and left the room; an errand boy would bring the costumes to the fitting rooms and she would finish them there. Meanwhile, she had a few touch ups to do on the dancers' outfits.

An hour later, after the ballet costumes were finished, Marie took a deep breath and prepared to do something she had not thought possible: fit a soprano's costumes to someone who would actually do them justice and appreciate them. Once she had her sense of focus, Marie picked up a threaded needle and practically attacked the costumes with a sense of determination, extremely glad that Carlotta would not be the person she would be fitting.

'_Honestly, the woman would never know good costume work if I struck her in the face with it_,' Marie thought, exasperated. '_And_ _I have been sorely tempted to do just that_!'

Finally, after all those years of fitting ungrateful, demanding divas, she would fit someone who could truly be grateful for all of the hard work it took to get the look of the actors _just_ _right_. All too often Christine had heard her older sister complain about the hassles of pleasing the lead soprano, the manager, and the costume mistresses. Many nights had required Marie to return to her rooms exhausted from cutting, pinning, stitching, and adjusting the materials as needed; and so, unsurprisingly, Christine knew how to appreciate all of the hard work needed to make her look good and convincing to the audience.

Marie had just fitted the last stitch on the white gown for Act Three when she felt a familiar presence in the room with her. It was a dark, looming feeling that only one man pulsated with.

"Hello, Erik," she quietly greeted him, just loud enough for her voice to be heard.

"Hello, _petite_," he replied, his voice soft and rich as he greeted her.

Normally the sound of his voice caused her to shiver with joy and excitement at the idea that he had come to see her, possibly to take her down so she could visit with him. She would usually turn to greet him with a smile, or even a hug, if he allowed it. Now she realized that any time she spent with him would be pure misery for her, as his voice and his being here only caused a sharp pain to stab in her heart.

Marie felt him tense up when she did not turn to greet him as she usually did. He seemed to shift slightly, as though uncomfortable, and she bit back a smile. Erik occasionally became uncomfortable around her, since he still did not know how to interact with people very well. It was amusing to think that the feared Opera Ghost, a man who had no qualms about boldly showing himself and his opinions to the Opera Populaire's managers, always tried to restrain himself around a single young woman, fearing that he might overstep a social boundary and upset their friendship. Tonight was no exception.

"Are you not happy to see me?" he asked, his voice somewhat unhappy as he spoke.

She wanted so badly to turn around and offer him comfort in his uneasiness, but knew it was a bad idea. Christine was the center of his life, now, not her. Marie was doing her best to be sure that she carefully eased out of their friendship and, therefore, ease the longing she had for him and for his love in her heart. It was better to do it now than later.

"I'm sorry, Erik," she said, moving behind the costume so that she was facing him, but still able to focus on the gown instead of looking at the man she so adored. "It's just that I must adjust all of the costumes for the gala tonight, since Carlotta ran out of the theater screaming like a banshee." Now came the hard part. "I'm afraid that I won't be able to visit you for a while."

"Then I will see you later in the week," Erik declared, slipping into the role of the Ghost as he made his demand known.

He was only making this harder, and she would have to do better to make him understand…even though it might hurt them both. Marie bit back her tears.

"Actually, I don't think I will be able to come visit you for a few months," she said, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Why?" demanded the Ghost, the persona of Erik who was unused to being denied. "Why so long?"

"Because I have too much to do," was her simple explanation. "First, the costume mistresses and I must work on the costumes and be sure that they fit until the opera is over. Second, we have new managers that we all must work hard to please, and to understand their ways of running the Opera House. It has been a very long time since we've had new management, and the ways of M. Firmin and M. Andre might be different from how M. LeFevre ran the Populaire." She risked a quick glance up at him before returning her eyes to the gown. "Do you understand?"

It was silent for a moment, and her heart seemed to fill the room with its beating as she waited for his answer. Most people would have feared angering the Phantom/Opera Ghost, but Marie knew better; as long as she gave him logical (or at least decent) reasons for refusing to do what he commanded, everything was all right. However, she felt that she was probably the only person in the world he would actually accept a refusal to do what he wanted, and still let her keep living.

Risking another glance up, she saw the thoughtful look he got whenever he was contemplating something. She admired his face as his dark left eyebrow twitched in displeasure, his intense green eyes seeming to almost be drilling a hole through the wood floor as the thought. A frown tugged on his lips, lips that she had been longing to kiss for years, but would now never get the chance to do so.

'_Christine will get that chance_,' Marie thought with a slight touch of bitterness.

Finally Erik nodded. "Your points are well-seen," he said, his tone still formal and in the form of the Ghost, indicating that he was still not happy about the whole thing. "However, expect me to come for you after the new _managers_ have settled in."

She could hear him spit his contempt for the newest additions to the Populaire, and bit back a small, sad smile. Without another word, the Phantom turned and left the room through one of his secret doors, quickly vanishing from her sight. Once she was sure he was gone, Marie sighed.

Oh, how she hated lying to him, the man that she'd loved for two years but never told her feelings to. But it was done, and done for the best. Marie was determined to distance herself now so that she would not be hurt later, when Erik revealed his glorious self to Christine. She was sure it was going to be soon; now that Christine was going to become a public figure and a star, he would want to get to her before she was too far out of his reach. It was only a matter of time.

Sighing once more, Marie turned her attention back towards the dress.

* * *

An hour before she was due onstage, Christine had spent a large amount of time getting every bit of encouragement and comfort from her sister that she could. Marie had merely laughed at her sister's babble and told her that she would be fine, that her voice was splendid, and that she had an older sister who was very proud of her accomplishments. Finally, as she was firmly laced into her costume and the final dab of makeup was rubbed into place, Christine was ready. 

Now Marie watched her sister impress the upper class of Paris. Looking out from backstage, she saw that Christine's talent, as well as the glowing, innocent beauty that she carried with her like an angel's halo, had charmed the entire audience. Men were awestruck, and even the women were extremely impressed. If Carlotta were to return, she would be in for a very great surprise if she expected to get her position of Prima Donna back; it was obvious that the woman lacked the ability to charm the audience and win them over with her voice and appearance.

Glancing up from her spot at the side of the stage, Marie directed her gaze straight up into Box 5, where the patron, Raoul de Chagny, sat. She knew that Erik would not be pleased with the situation, but then, he was probably too busy plotting to woo Christine after the performance was over. She quickly pushed that thought aside and focused her mind and energy on what she needed to help her sister with afterwards. Honestly, _Hannibal_ could not end fast enough!

'_Well, **that's** rude of you_,' she thought to herself, ashamed. This was her sister's first big public debut as an opera star, and she was frantic for it to end? Instead, she merely sighed and listened to the blending of song and instruments.

Finally, the final bows were taken, and all of the actors rushed to their rooms to throw off their costumes, break out the alcohol, and become insensible until noon tomorrow. Marie rolled her eyes and tried to locate Christine, who had vanished immediately after the opera. Oddly enough, it did not bother her; the ballerinas would all be eager to have some male company tonight, so there would be no aggressive stagehands advancing on Christine. Shrugging, Marie headed towards the diva's room and waited. Moments later, a rather confused and skeptical-looking Meg Giry delivered Christine to her room, and Marie sighed with relief. The oldest girl smiled and shooed Meg out the door with a playful pat on the head as a form of thanks. Once the two were alone, Marie focused on the long task of getting her sister out of the tremendously wide gown.

"Christine, where were you?" Marie semi-scolded as she unlaced the dress.

"I went to go visit Papa's picture and to light a candle for him," a soft voice replied.

Marie smiled. "Well, I'm sure that he saw you tonight and is very proud of you," she said, patting her sister on the shoulders as she began tugging the dress off of her. "Now, lift your arms so that we can get this cloud of silk off of you." Christine giggled and obeyed.

Finally, once the garment had carefully been tucked away and the jeweled clips in Christine's hair had been stored in their proper box, Marie sighed and reached for a nightgown for her sister to wear. A knock on the door interrupted her. Confused, Marie motioned for Christine to go into the next room as she got rid of the person, who was likely an admirer. Opening the door, she was shocked to see the Vicompt, an armful of white roses in his arms.

Marie smirked. "Oh, Raoul!" she exclaimed, plastering a false giggle into her voice, one that she had used many times when they had played together at the coast. "You shouldn't have!" She snickered as he rolled his eyes.

"I would recognize that teasing tone of yours anywhere, Marie Daae," he said, giving a mocking sigh. "In the mean time, I would like to ask your sister to dinner this evening, if I may, Mademoiselle Daae," he said in a formal tone, though his blue eyes sparkled with good humor.

She pressed a finger to her chin, as though she were considering the matter. Finally, she dropped her hand and looked at him. "Well, as long as you bring her _straight_ _back_ afterwards, with no little unexpected stops, you have my permission," she said, smiling as Raoul heaved a true sigh of relief. "I'll help her change into something suitable and send her out in a few moments."

He eagerly nodded and handed her the flowers before he turned and left. Marie shut the door with a giggle as she headed towards the bedroom where Christine was sitting at a small vanity, a confused look on her face.

"Who was it?" she asked, blue-gray eyes full of curiosity as she looked up at her older sister.

Deciding to be playful, Marie shrugged. "Just a man named the Vicompt de Chagny," she said, setting the roses on a nearby table. "Though you may remember him better if he called you Little Lotte."

Christine let out a gasp. "Raoul!" she said in disbelief. "What did he want?"

"Why, to ask you to supper, of course!" Marie said, grinning broadly at her sister, reaching for a pale blue gown and holding it out. "Now change quickly, he is expecting you!" Christine opened her mouth to protest, but Marie silenced her with a sharp look. "Don't be foolish and refuse," she said, her expression serious. "He is a handsome, wealthy young man trying to court you, and you should not turn him down so easily, especially when I know the two of you have cared for one another since the moment he first ran out to rescue your scarf."

Christine smiled and blushed, but nodded as she reached for the dress and put it on. Once she was dressed, she sat before her vanity mirror and let her sister arrange her hair, closing her eyes as the brush ran through the dark brown curls. Marie smiled as she neatly arranged the mass of brown locks in front of her into a lovely halo that framed her sister's face.

"I am happy for you in this, Christine," she softly said over her sister's head as her fingers busily worked. "This way, you will not be an old maid like me, who will most likely grow old and have ten cats as her only companions," she said jokingly.

Christine opened her mouth to disagree, but Marie cut her off. "No, don't argue with your older, wiser sister," she jokingly scolded, waving a brush over her sister's head. Christine giggled. One last tug of the brush, and it was all in place. "There, your hair is finished, your dress is lovely, and you look wonderful. Quickly, let's put on your cloak."

Practically leaping from her seat in front of the mirror, Christine reached her hands out for the garment, but her limbs were pushed aside by Marie, who quickly began to tie the black cloak around her sister's shoulders. Securing it with a silver broach that Madame Giry had given Christine for her last birthday, the younger girl looked quite the charming picture, and Marie was sure that Raoul would not know what hit him when he saw Christine.

"Lovely," Marie said with a proud smile. "Now, get going! Young men hate to be kept waiting for too long, and it has been nearly twenty minutes already!"

A sudden knock on the door startled both sisters. Marie opened it and was surprised to find the Vicompt waiting. He gave her a smile and a kiss on the back of the hand before stepping inside to look at Christine. The two smiled shyly at one another as Raoul gave Christine a kiss on the hand as well. Marie rolled her eyes at the romantic sight.

"Alright, you two, on with you!" she cried, grabbing them by the shoulders and shoving them out the door. "Remember, Vicompt, I expect her home early! She has rehearsal in the morning, and a performance tomorrow evening, and she needs her rest!"

Raoul merely nodded his reply as Christine gave her sister a quick kiss on the cheek and rushed out after her new suitor. Once they were both out the door, Marie turned back towards the room and sighed; she had much to do before bed tonight, and not enough time to do it.

* * *

From behind the mirror, the Phantom watched as the entire scene had unfolded. Skillful hands twisted brown curls into place and a cloak fitted onto slim shoulders in preparation to meet with the young, handsome, and _rich_ Vicompt de Chagny. The two girls giggled and talked as one made the other ready for the evening. 

Already Erik hated the younger man. He obviously knew the girls prior to their coming to the Opera House, likely from a meeting as very young children. And _how_ _dared_ this Raoul kiss his Angel's hand! This de Chagny will have to be dealt with, and soon. The Opera Ghost would tolerate no rival, not in _his_ home! He watched as Marie tidied up the diva's dressing room.

'_And then there's Marie_…' Yes, there was also Marie to deal with…

Erik gritted his teeth and with a swish of his cloak, headed down towards his lair.

* * *

AN: Uh, oh, the Phantom is pissed off! Clear the theater! Anyway, please review! Thanks! 


	12. Return of the Diva & Consequences

Disclaimer: All things tied to the musical/book Phantom of the Opera are (regretfully) not mine.

AN: Yes, the plot is thickening. Don't you love it? (winks) And yes, Erik has some serious issues, but we all knew that already, didn't we? Thanks for all of the wonderful support and reviews, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 12: Return of the Diva & Consequences:**

That night, Erik felt like smashing someone's head against the wall in frustration. Marie had practically declared that she did not want to see him for a long amount of time for some reason or another, and then she'd had the audacity to send Christine out with that…that _boy_!

Erik bit back a growl as he stalked down into his lair. What really angered him was that the Vicompt could hardly be called a 'boy.' From the rumors going around the Opera House, the young man was at least Marie's age and an eligible bachelor. However, he had no right to kiss the hands of both sisters before escorting the younger one away to an evening of fine dining and amusement!

'_She is to be back early_,' he reminded himself as he paced his home. '_There might still be time to put the plan into action once she returns_.' However, he knew that Christine would not return until it was too late to attempt his plan. She would come home, be fussed over by her sister, then be put to bed in order to be well-rested for the next day.

Attempting to relax his hostile impulses, Erik changed into a loose shirt, black pants, and his green robe. He then sat himself at his organ and positioned his fingers in the familiar playing position, as it was a habit of his to play whenever he needed to calm down and organize his thoughts. Playing the smooth white and black keys was usually very soothing for his nerves, but tonight, music would not come. Not tonight…not after having both Marie and Christine stolen from him in one day. First Marie refused to see him, and then Christine disappeared with a fop.

And yet, it had been _Marie_ who had practically shoved the two young lovebirds out the door with a word of encouragement and no thought of Erik's wishes for his protégé this night. Instead, Marie had told Christine to have fun, amuse herself with her suitor, and relish the fact that she was being courted by a handsome, wealthy young man that they had known many years earlier.

'_This will not do_.'

No, it would not. He had not spent all of these years training Christine, protecting her and loving her, for all of his work to fall apart on him now, especially because of the arrival of a boy-suitor. Nothing would disrupt his plans. Nothing. Not Carlotta, not the managers, not Madame Giry, and certainly not some wealthy Vicompt.

As for Marie, he had something planned so he could keep an eye on her and out of his way.

* * *

At last, the final showing of _Hannibal_ was over, and Marie let out a sigh of relief. The opera had gone unusually smoothly, largely because there was no Carlotta around to make things difficult for everyone with all of her demands. The diva's loud, obnoxious requests tended to interrupt rehearsals more often than not, and the fact that she required her dogs, maid, and hairdresser close to her was annoying as well. The people she called her 'entourage' only took up valuable space onstage that should have been occupied by cast members only, and it tended to drive people insane. 

'_Thank goodness it was Christine they replaced her with_!' Marie thought with a relieved smile.

Sweet, undemanding, good-natured Christine was a blessing to have as a replacement. Most of the diva's understudies were as snobbish and demanding as the first; it was a relief to finally be _thanked_ for helping a diva instead of having to dodge thrown hairbrushes and a room full of cursing. Now, though, with the gala and _Hannibal_ over, Marie was certain that the new managers would do what managers did best: grovel on their knees to get the lead soprano back to fill the seats.

'_Honestly, do they **really** think that the public will choose Carlotta's screeching voice over Christine's superior one_?' Marie thought with a snort of anger. '_Just because Carlotta's famous name fills seats doesn't mean that she'll **keep** filling them after this_, e_specially if Raoul or anyone has anything to say about it_!'

Marie had a feeling that, with Raoul as the patron, Christine would have the star spot, with or without a certain Ghost's help. She shook her head to clear Erik from her thoughts once more; he always seemed to sneak up on her whenever she least expected him, just as he appeared and disappeared in real life. Sighing, Marie made her way to the grand staircase to see if the mail had come yet.

A commotion in the great echoing room caught her attention. Taking a peek inside, Marie spotted Firmin and Andre chattering over a newspaper. Whatever was written in this morning's paper had to be about the opera, since that always took over a large spot on the front page once the event was over. Checking for the reviews always was the first thing a decent Opera House manager read the moment he was awake and dressed. From what she could tell, the reviews for the performances were a mixture of good and bad, probably consisting of gossip.

Words like 'Carlotta' and 'cursed stage' made Marie's eyes roll in exasperation as she listened. The managers continued to chatter on about how the seats would possibly either not sell because of Carlotta's absence, or would sell faster with Christine now singing as the lead. However, to them, publicity was always a good thing, and if it helped sell seats, so much the better.

"But what is this nonsense about a salary?" cried Firmin's voice, followed by the sound of crumpled paper. "Who would send us notes demanding money and declaring Carlotta to be a useless old hen?"

"It is signed O.G.," Andre replied in an annoyed tone, the sound of more paper crumpling quickly following. "Opera Ghost? Clearly these people are so obsessed with this fantasy that they even write notes with his signature on it!"

Marie merely shook her head and snickered quietly as she peeked around a corner to get an actual view of what was happening. They would learn soon enough to fear the one who truly sent the notes. Suddenly, she heard the familiar, unpleasant shrieking of Carlotta as the diva entered the building, as well as Raoul's frustrated and fearful voice.

"Where is she?" Raoul cried, running up to the managers.

"Who?" the two older men asked, clearly confused.

"Mademoiselle Daae!" said the Vicompt. "This note was sent to my home." He began to read it aloud. "_Do not attempt to see Christine Daae again, for the Angel of Music has taken her under his wing_."

"I demand that you put a stop to this madness!" cried Carlotta, who had come up behind them. The three men looked at her in confusion, and the diva sniffed disdainfully at them. "This note you, Monsieur Patron, sent me: _Your days at the Opera Populaire are numbered. Christine Daae will be singing on your behalf after this night. Be prepared for misfortune if you attempt to take her place_."

"Monsieurs," called Madame Giry's crisp voice, who appeared from a side doorway, a note in her hand and Meg at her side. "I bring a message from the Opera Ghost."

The managers immediately tore it open and read the contents. Marie saw their lips move, but could hear nothing. Instead, she watched as they cried out in outrage and began blurting out random sentences to the listening patron, singer, and ballet mistress.

"Cast Christine as the Countess in _Il Muto_!" cried Firmin. "And Carlotta as the silent Pageboy, which is the ideal part for the shrieking banshee that she is!"

Carlotta looked insulted. "**_I_** play a _silent_ role?" she screamed. "_And what do you mean, **banshee**_? I know that this is all a plot to help Christine! Her name is everywhere!"

"There's more," said M. Andre. "Mademoiselle Marie Daae, sister to the soprano, is to be made one of the head costume mistresses, as her talents in this art form are superb." He looked angry. "That is absurd! Playing favorites with a singer and her sister!"

"Great disasters shall happen should you not obey these demands," Madame Giry said in an ominous voice that caused all the others to stop in their complaints.

Marie had heard enough. Turning around, she went to start getting ready for the next production.

* * *

She was in the middle of adjusting the elaborate pink gown of the Countess in _Il Muto_ when she heard Madame Giry approaching, muttering insults about the intelligence of the Opera managers under her breath. Marie bit back a laugh and turned to greet her foster mother. 

"The managers are fools," the older woman remarked, glancing down at the nearly finished gown. "They have reestablished Carlotta as the lead and Christine is now the silent Pageboy." Madame gave the young costumer a sympathetic look.

Marie merely laughed. "It's alright," she said, smiling. "I overheard the whole squabble about the demands, and it doesn't bother me. I don't want a job title that I haven't rightly earned. I'm just glad I don't get to fit Christine into _this_." She glared at the gown. "You know how I detest this color."

Madame actually laughed, a rarity in itself. "I know, _petite_," she said, chuckling as she remembered the one (and _only_ time) she had ever forced Marie into a pink dress. "Now, get that costume up to Carlotta's dressing room so that she can try it on for the performance."

Biting back a groan, Marie picked up the gown, a pen and a stack of paper, and made her way to the diva's dressing room. Even though she wouldn't have to actually fit it to Carlotta herself, she still hated going anywhere near the awful woman. Walking quickly in order to get the ordeal over with, Marie was happy to hand the costume off to one of the diva's maids and wait outside for the complaints to float through the closed door.

In the end, Marie spent almost an hour writing down all of the criticism that Carlotta dictated through the door so that the gown could be altered. Finally, the ordeal was over, and the maids brought out the costume and practically threw it into Marie's waiting arms. With a forced smile, Marie thanked them and quickly rushed the outfit back to the sewing rooms to do her job.

* * *

During the entire preparation for the performance of _Il Muto_, the cast and crew kept their eyes open and traveled in groups around the Opera House. Many knew that the managers and patron had gone against what the Phantom had commanded, and they didn't want to get caught up in one of his revenge plots. Even the stagehands kept in a tight pack as they walked back to their rooms, not stopping even to flirt with the dancers. Madame Giry was more aggravated than usual about the dance routines, meaning that she was just as nervous and frightened of the Phantom's wrath as everyone else. Well, almost everyone… 

It was somewhat amusing to know that a young woman of twenty-three years of age was not frightened of the Ghost, but Marie knew that Erik would not hurt anyone unless he felt threatened in some way or another. This thought helped keep her calm and gave her a safe feeling…right up to opening night. A few hours before the performance, she had been walking back to her rooms when the louse Joseph Buquet approached her and made the offer he gave to all young women.

Marie sniffed in distain. "My answer is as it always has been, Buquet," she snapped, glaring at the man. "I refused you when I was fifteen, I refused you every week after that, and I refuse you now."

Buquet merely smiled. "The ballet mistress cannot protect you forever, pretty one," he said, his hand snapping out to grab Marie's shoulder. "I give and get pleasure from _all_ of the women that I want."

Marie had then reached out and punched him with her fist, causing him to release her long enough to escape to her rooms. He had followed her to the entrance of Madame Giry's hallway, but no further; he, too, feared to confront Madame face-to-face after touching one of her 'daughters'. Sighing, Marie waited for the ballet mistress to come and find her, as she always did before each opera opening.

* * *

Two hours later, Marie was contentedly walking beside her foster mother, who looked extremely angry. Everyone knew better than to bother either Madame when she was like this, so a path was cleared as the two went to the stage to give final orders to the ballet dancers. Marie was then quickly recruited to help adjust Carlotta's enormous puffy, pink gown just before the curtain went up. 

Once she was no longer needed, Marie sighed with relief and took a spot on the side of the stage nearest Box 5, fully prepared to watch the opera. A hand on her shoulder caused a small squeak of surprise to escape her lips. Turning around, she spotted Raoul at her elbow, a playful smile on his handsome face. He jerked his head towards Box 5, which he had claimed as his own, silently asking her to join him in watching the performance. Marie nodded and took his offered arm.

The opera progressed fairly well. The cast seemed to relax, and the comedy that the performance was supposed to project seemed to flow better as everyone lost some of their previous tension. Marie found it quite uncomfortable to be watching an opera from Box 5 without Erik's permission, but it was still a good view. Suddenly, a booming voice filled the theater from above.

"Did I not instruct that Box 5 was to be kept empty?"

Marie's head jerked up towards the empty ceiling before she caught herself. '_Of course he's not up there_,' she mentally scolded herself. '_Ventriloquism is one of his talents, you fool_!'

"Your part is silent, little toad," snapped Carlotta from the stage.

"A toad, Madame?" mocked the Phantom, his voice coming from a different direction now. "Perhaps it is you who are the toad!"

Marie tried to hold back her laughter as the diva's voice began to croak like a frog's. She had always wanted something like that to happen to the arrogant singer, but never did she think that Erik would do something to publicly humiliate her! Looking around, she watched as several members of the audience laughed, though most were whispering and looking fearfully around them as the diva raced off the stage in a fit of rage and panic. Knowing that this must be all about getting Christine on stage, Marie raced out of Box 5 and towards the diva's dressing room, where her sister must be waiting.

A quick look around that area told her that Christine was nowhere near where she was supposed to be, causing Marie to go into a slight panic. The young woman was asking cast and crewmembers where Christine was when she heard screaming from the stage area. Fearing it was her sister, Marie raced towards the sound, glanced around a corner, and spotted Joseph Buquet hanging from a…

'_Punjab lasso_,' she thought, wanting to faint. '_Erik just killed Buquet_.' Another thought entered her mind, one that always exploded into her head whenever danger was nearby.

'**_Protect Christine_**.'

Marie immediately turned around and found Meg. "Where is Christine?" she demanded, copying the tone that Madame used when she wanted answers _right now_.

"She went up to the roof with the Vicompt," gasped the petite blonde dancer as she raced to get onstage.

Biting back a dozen curse words (which Madame would slap her for if she found out her eldest daughter actually knew them), Marie raced towards the roof. The climb was one she did not enjoy, as she had developed a fear of heights, but it had to be done if it got Marie to her sister. It was also a very long climb from the ground of the Opera House to the top, and Marie was out of breath when she reached the doorway that led to the large rooftop. Hearing two voices singing, she paused before opening the door.

"**_Love me, that's all I ask of you_**…"

Marie sighed; it was such a beautiful song, and if it was being sung by who she thought it was, then everything would work out for the best. Bracing herself, Marie cautiously opened the door and peeked out. There stood Christine and Raoul in an innocent, though somewhat passionate, embrace. In fact, they were kissing! Biting back a giggle of happiness for the two, Marie swallowed before clearing her throat.

Raoul, being the gentleman he was, immediately stepped back from Christine, his body language telling her that he was getting ready to apologize for his actions. Meanwhile, Christine was merely blushing prettily and giving her sister a look that begged her to forgive them for what they had been doing together before Marie had interrupted.

Marie heaved a large sigh. "Alright, you two," she said in a gentle chiding tone. "I'm not going to yell at you for 'manhandling' my sister, Raoul, so do not start apologizing." Raoul closed his mouth. "And Christine, since I the one that told you to go to supper, this sort of thing can hardly be disappointing to a girl who was trying to play matchmaker to her younger sister."

The two lovebirds smiled sheepishly before Raoul bowed. "Thank you," he said.

"Yes, thank you, Marie," Christine whispered before walking over and kissing her sister on the cheek.

"You're welcome," Marie replied, smiling happily at them. "Now, Christine, get back down there! You have a performance to put on tonight!" Christine's eyes widened before she raced past her sister and into the Opera House. Marie then turned to Raoul. "If you break her heart, I swear I'll…"

Raoul chuckled before reaching out giving Marie a hug and kiss on the cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he said, grinning as he walked past her.

Marie sighed and glanced around the roof. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bit of shadow move by one of the large statues that decorated the top of the Opera Populaire. There was only one way that another person could get up here, and only one person who could use that passageway.

"I know you're here, Erik," she said aloud, aware that he heard her. Another bit of movement confirmed it. "I know what you tried to do. I heard all about the notes you sent to the managers, the Vicompt, and to Carlotta." Her voice was getting angrier by the moment.

"I thought I was more than a plaything for you, Erik," Marie said, glancing straight ahead so that she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing the emotion he had stirred up in her. "I know you tried to make Christine the lead soprano through threats, and tried to frighten the Vicompt away from her. And since you know everything that goes on within the Opera House, you know that Christine and I knew him from long ago, and that we are old friends.

"If you didn't know before, you know now that Raoul has my approval and my _permission_ to court Christine as he wishes. He is a good man with a good heart, and I know that he has loved her since he first met her. I have no objection to seeing my sister fall in love with a man who will treat her like a princess and take care of her throughout her life." Here Marie paused to catch her breath.

"Also, I am not going to gain some sort of higher position within the Opera House because of _you_ and _your_ influence," she retorted, hands on her hips as she lectured to the shadowy figure that lurked just in the corner of her eye. "I will do that myself, through _my own_ skills and abilities, not through fear and extortion. Besides, I know you would rather focus most of your energies on helping Christine instead of me." Marie bit back tears. "I know that you only want me to advance so that I can be as far away from her while she rises as a star, but I won't let you toy with and separate us!"

She turned and stalked off of the rooftop, back into the Populaire.

* * *

Erik watched Marie flee the rooftop in a huff. He had seen her upset, but very rarely at him, and it hurt to know that he had caused her pain. However, the anger he was feeling towards both her and her sister overrode all other emotions, especially after all he had done for them! He did not want Marie stuck being an assistant to someone her entire life; she was better than that, and deserved to at least be successful at the Populaire! And Christine… 

His heart broke at the thought of Christine and her Vicompt together. After all he had done for her, being her Angel of Music, teaching her to rise above all others at the Opera House and become something great and beautiful, she had betrayed him! Falling in love with…with…that Fop and coming up here and flaunt it (albeit unknowingly) in his face, both of them going against the demands he had sent! Anger ripped through his body as he stood in the center of the roof, howling his rage to the heavens.

"**_You will curse the day you did not do, all that the Phantom asked of you_!"**

* * *

AN: Chills, anyone? Please review and let me know how you liked the chapter! Thanks! 


	13. A Time for Peace and Surprises

Disclaimer: I (regretfully) own nothing Phantom. Leroux, Webber, and Kay all own it…lucky stiffs.

AN: This chapter I totally made up on my own about what happens between the Rooftop scene and the Masquerade. It's supposedly a "peaceful" time for the Opera House, but I promise no dull moments for this chapter! To find out more, you must read. Enjoy, and please review!

**Chapter 13: A Time for Peace and Surprises**:

Things became unusually quiet and peaceful following the (somewhat disastrous) night of _Il Muto_.

Normally by the time the Populaire was ready to put on a new show, a thousand different things would have gone wrong, especially when it might require the 'talents' of La Carlotta. It had become a tradition to expect something to go wrong from the very moment a new opera was chosen and the parts were assigned to members of the cast. Some singers had even developed a routine of avoiding the center of the stage just so they were not innocently tangled in the Phantom's anti-Carlotta attacks.

This time, however, just to be safe, the managers had decided to put on a unique production, just newly arrived from Russia called _Swan Lake_. The unusual thing about _Swan Lake_ was that it was a purely _ballet_ performance. As was expected, the singers were not as happy about the whole thing. However, they remembered how the Phantom had caused Carlotta to 'croak' onstage, and therefore refused to protest the managers' choice. It was also needless to say that the dancers were thrilled to have something that everyone in the _corps de ballet_ could be in, and that they would all get to wear a beautiful costume while onstage. But never could anyone put aside the looming thought of the Phantom possibly reappearing to torment them, causing all of the performers to keep an eye open.

As preparations got underway, the cast and crewmembers were astonished by one significant thing: they were able to prepare for a performance without having destroyed props, torn backdrops, or interrupted rehearsals. Ballet rats were surprised to find that they experienced no pranks or 'hauntings' on their walks to and from their dormitories, and eventually stopped traveling in small packs for safety. Monsieurs Firmin and Andre were also puzzled (but relieved) to receive no demands from the Ghost for money, nor cruel notes filled with mocking words against them or Carlotta.

In a word, things were unusually _happy_ for most of those dwelling within the Populaire, and many hoped that it would last. Even Christine and Raoul who were, in a way, a bit uneasy about the sudden disappearance of the menacing specter, but their fearful feelings soon disappeared from the minds of the two lovebirds. In fact, the only people concerned about the Phantom and his obvious absence were Madame Giry and Marie Daae.

It was clear to everyone that the ballet mistress was more irritable than she had been prior to the _Il Muto_ performance. She worried over everything, from the dancers to the singers, and did her best to check that everyone was where they should be. If anyone was late to work, Madame would question everyone as to the missing person's whereabouts until she either had the answers she was looking for, or that person appeared for their job. Finally, the cast and crew all did their best to please Madame as much as they could, and always let her know what they were doing and where they were going. This mostly satisfied Madame, and therefore, pleased everyone else who didn't have to listen to a lecture on a daily basis.

Marie, on the other hand, worried for her sister and dear Raoul more than anyone else. She feared what Erik might do now that Christine had another man's love and attention, as well as Marie's consent on the matter of the Vicompt wooing the young soprano. So, in order to keep them all safe, Marie had asked Raoul to take her and Christine to one of his homes in the city. It might have been easier to simply have Christine leave so that Marie could talk try and talk to her masked friend, but the older girl doubted that Erik would be willing to speak to her or see reason. So, after _Il Muto_ had concluded, Marie had called Christine, Raoul, Madame Giry, and the managers into a private café so that they could talk without fear of being overheard. Once everyone was settled, Marie had proposed her plan of moving her and Christine away from the wrath of the Ghost and into a house belonging to the de Chagny family. She believed that the move would be temporary, at best, and would only go on until either the Ghost calmed down or she could protect Christine better than she could now.

Madame Giry and the managers had made fervent protests against the plan due to the scandal that might erupt in the papers, but Raoul promised that the only people living in that house would be the Daae sisters and the household servants. He had then sworn on his honor and that of his family that he would not enter the home during the sisters' stay there, that he would always ask to meet them in public so as to avoid any sort of scandal. Reluctantly, Madame Giry agreed to this, if only to keep the two girls safe from harm. The girls then moved their things out of the Populaire and into the de Chagny townhouse, which stood half a mile down the road.

Upon their arrival, Raoul had given them (as well as Madame Giry, who was there as a chaperone) a tour of the house and introduced them to the servants. A series of arrangements were made so that Marie and Christine could get to the Opera House so that Marie could work and Christine could practice for her dance role in _Swan Lake_. Meanwhile, Madame could visit the townhouse once a week on Sunday to check on the girls and to bring news on what they might have missed. Once the girls were settled, Raoul and Madame had bid them 'good day' and left them to their own devices.

Living way from the Opera House had brought a mixture of feelings to the two young Daae sisters. Christine was ecstatic about their move into a fine house, and had spent a whole day exploring all that Raoul's family's home had to offer. She was enchanted by the elegant air the building had, and everything held some new sort of wonder for her. Her room was a soft rose-petal pink, her favorite color, and had everything a young woman could possibly need. The servants were kind to her and did their best to serve her all of her favorite foods and to entertain her.

In contrast, Marie sorely missed the Populaire. Although she was driven back to the Opera House in order to help with the costuming of the dancers, Marie felt as though she were missing half of the fun that went on during the chaos of pre-production. Since _Swan Lake_ was to be a danced display, Madame Giry wanted to be the only instructor for the _corps de ballet_, leaving Marie to focus only on helping the costume mistresses with their work. Stuck alone in a back room all day, Marie missed the dark creative atmosphere that it had, and all of the wonderful things that were talked about or worked on when preparing for a performance. Most of all, Marie missed helping the dancers with their steps and listening to their troubles. Before leaving the Populaire, she had thought them troublesome (at best), but now she missed being useful to someone. Sewing costumes could only keep a person occupied for so long before it drove them insane, so Marie was forced to take long periods of rest while working on the outfits. However, it was always during her work breaks that the dancers were all busy onstage, leaving her with nothing to do except watch the other workers do their tasks.

'_I am not fit for the idol life of the wealthy or the noble_,' she had thought after her first two weeks at the de Chagny manor. '_I need to work, to be doing something with myself, or I will lose my mind_!'

Christine, on the other hand, greatly enjoyed being in a home of the aristocracy, though it did nothing to changer her sweet temperament. The young soprano took an almost childish delight in being able to do anything she wanted, whenever she wanted without someone (except her sister) watching her. She did not live in fear at being cornered by a stagehand and his unwanted advances, nor did she any longer have to worry about the Opera Ghost haunting her footsteps. Plus, Christine was able to go out and happily be wooed by her childhood friend and sweetheart.

Finally, the production of _Swan Lake_ was over and done with, remarkably without a single mishap. The audience had loved the gracefulness of the dancers, the beauty and sparkle of the costumes, and the wonderful music that had accompanied it. Money was pouring into the Opera House without the Ghost taking any of it away, the cast and crew were joyous at no longer being haunted, and Christine and Raoul had progressed their romance in an almost fairytale manner. Life was good.

However, as everyone knows, all good things must, eventually, come to an end…

* * *

Running his fingers through his greasy dark hair, Erik pulled his hand free of the tangled mess and realized that he hadn't bathed in over a week. Groaning, he buried his face in his hands, the papers before him crinkling under his elbows. 

For two months they had been gone from the only true home they had known. Two months since he had seen Marie and Christine running through the hallways of the Populaire, laughing and sharing stories with each other and the ballet rats over tea and cookies. How empty the Populaire was without them…

'_That does not matter_,' he mentally snapped to himself. '_You have a plan to get them back where they belong_!'

Yes, he had a plan, but waiting for the opportune moment to act on it was difficult. In all his years of life, Erik had done his best to become a patient man, especially when dealing with either Marie or Christine. Now, with no reason to keep his actions in place, he was eager to act out on those who had robbed him of what was rightfully his.

Rubbing his hands over his face, Erik felt a smudge of wetness on his cheek. Pulling his hands away to glance at them, he realized it was ink. Wincing, he decided that a nice hot bath was in store before he went upstairs to watch the progress that was being made to his Opera House. After all, it would not do for him to be found out because of his inability to keep himself clean!

Getting up from his desk, Erik quickly tossed aside his dirty clothes, scrubbed himself raw with soap and water, and dressed in an all-black ensemble. In his opinion, he looked rather dashing in nothing but black, the white of his mask heightened by the dark color. He knew that this outfit would strike fear into any who laid eyes on him, and he relished that knowledge as he made his way up to the Opera Populaire, hoping to catch of glimpse of his quarry.

* * *

'_It feels rather odd to be in the Opera House and not having to work on something_,' Marie thought to herself as she walked around the nearly deserted structure. Everyone else was away on private business, leaving the building practically void of all life. 

Presently, the Populaire was between productions, with the managers having no intension of choosing another until after the New Year's Eve Masquerade. With no chosen opera to work on, and therefore, no costumes to make, Marie was doomed to spend the next month bored in the elegant safe house she shared with Christine. And since she had nothing to do in the splendid de Chagny residence, Marie had decided to pass her free time in the Populaire, where there was always someplace that held something to do to keep one from becoming bored. Today, she had decided to spend time in a room that she had very rarely been in without the supervision of the costume mistresses or a fellow companion's presence. Today, Marie snuck into one of the most magical places in the entire Populaire: the costume rooms.

Carefully opening the door, Marie took a quick peek around to be sure that she would not be caught. Madame Rose was the queen of everything that lay behind these doors, and did not want to risk anything delicate to idle hands. Expensive materials were stored in here, from cloth to sequins, as well as the elaborate costumes and headpieces that took weeks of intense hard work to make. Therefore, there were only four or five people that had keys to this room: Madame Rose, Marie and Lauren (her assistants), Madame Giry, and the managers. Everyone else was kept out so that they would not play with the costumes.

'_But I'm going to be rather naughty and play with the costumes anyway_,' Marie thought to herself, shivering at the thrillingly dangerous prospect of being caught.

She had never dared to do this before; the only time that Marie had been allowed into these rooms without being on 'official' costume business was when she just remembered something she needed to adjust or fix for a performance. So, tightly clutching the lantern she had brought, Marie slipped inside, silently closing the door behind her and locking it so that no one could disturb her. Once she was safe from discovery, she turned the light up to its fullest and stared at the treasure trove of magnificence around her.

Shimmering silks, satins, velvets, muslins, gauzy veils, feathers, and all other materials opened up in a sea before her. Colors of every different shade swirled around her in a rainbow of cloth, beads, and sequins, the jewelry sewn onto the outfits complimenting everything with faint metallic glitters. For some, there were headpieces that matched, while for others there were strange props that were attached to it, such as silver or gold 'magic' wands with shimmering silks attached to the tops.

And now she would get to play with them all!

Picking her way through the numerous outfits, Marie found one particular outfit that she had always liked but had never had the courage to try on. It was a white gown made of silk and trimmed with gold thread, a simple but elegant piece for an opera based on the story Snow White. It was amongst Marie had been assigned to construct on her own, and it was her pride and joy.

As she had stitched each bit of gold embroidery to the shimmering white hem and adjusted the delicate white lace on the collar, Marie had fallen in love with the dress and had hoped that the wearer would do it justice. It was fortunate that the girl who had played the lead had not been Carlotta, for the diva had been out with a terrible case of the flu. Instead, the understudy for Snow White had been a young woman close to Marie's age and size, and the dress had been altered to fit her. Fortunately, the girl had been kind enough to tease Marie, saying that they were the same size and asked Marie to try on the dress. Since the costume mistress would have likely fired her for it, Marie had refused, and the dress had been tucked away to be used for the performance. After that, however, it had been carefully stored in the back rooms of the Populaire, and Marie had not expected to see it again.

But now was her chance. Slipping behind a changing screen, Marie slid out of her plain green work-dress and into the light and elegant white gown. There were white slippers to go with it, but they would not fit her, so she made do without. The bodice of the dress fit her well, and the sleeves fell to her wrists with an overlay of white gauze that hung down almost to the floor. Marie looked around and found the jeweled belt that went with it, the end falling to just above the gold-embroidered hem.

She sighed. "I wish I could have a dress like this," she said aloud, knowing no one would hear.

Looking down, Marie let out a giggle and twirled around, feeling like a little girl playing dress up with elegant clothes bought just for her. Something large and white in the corner caught her eye, causing her to turn her head to get a better look. There stood a pair of glorious white wings which the prop makers had put together for a Christmas performance. Getting an idea, Marie walked across the room and removed them from the wall. Sliding her arms through the shoulder rests, the silk wrappings that made the device bearable to wear slipped under the arms so that the wings would not slip out of place. Dressed in full costume regalia, Marie turned to look herself in the mirror, smiling at what she saw.

"I really do look like an angel," she softly said to the room around her as she turned back and forth to look at herself from all points of view.

After a few minutes, her shoulders began to tire of wearing the wings, so she removed them. A sigh of relief spilled from her lips as she set them aside, deciding to instead favor her reflection in the white gown she so greatly loved and admired. As she twirled around, Marie realized that her outfit looked rather…lacking, without the wings to add an air of fantasy to it. The thought rather depressed her.

"Christine would look like an angel no matter what," she murmured to herself, glaring down at the floor. "Christine always looks like an angel…like Erik's angel…" The thought caused her to choke on the tears that threatened to spill.

"Why can't I look like that?" she said, falling to her knees, her hands limp in her lap. "Why can't I ever look lovely enough to get Erik's attention?"

Realizing that she was getting the gown dirty, Marie stood up and brushed it off, sniffing as she shook the dust from the skirt. Sighing, she slipped behind the screen and changed out of the white gown and into her own dress. When she emerged, her tears were under control, though her eyes were red and puffy. The white gown was soon returned to the storage chest where she had obtained it, but Marie did not leave just yet. Instead, she stopped in front of the mirror and looked.

"Why can't you love me, Erik?" she asked, as though he were right before her, hearing her words. "I love you more than you could ever know. Don't you see me?" She sighed. "Of course you don't. You only see Christine…beautiful, talented Christine who can sing like and angel and bring your music to life. You don't want a talentless girl like me."

Tears began falling down her face once more as she looked around the room. Marie quickly spotted a rather revealing red gown, and decided to be spontaneous. Quickly snatching it up, she went behind the screen once more and changed. When she emerged, Marie was rather shocked at what she saw, and blushed.

"Well, at least now I know I have a bust," she said, somewhat jokingly.

However, she had to admit that she did look good in red; it just happened to be one of the only colors that she looked decent in, besides black. This dress was red with a black bodice. The lacings were red, as were the designs sewn onto the black fabric. Around the length of the skirt was a twisting jungle of black leaves and flowers, giving the costume an exotic look and feel. Marie actually felt attractive in this dress, possibly even eye-catching.

"Probably not enough to catch the Phantom's eye," she said bitterly. She looked down at the fair amount of cleavage that showed over the top of the dress. "Although those might help attract the eyes of other men." Suddenly, a smile crept its way up to her lips.

"I wonder if I could ask Madame Rose if I could wear this to the Masquerade on New Year's Eve?"

* * *

Erik felt his heart drop in his chest as he heard Marie speak to 'herself' in the mirror, not knowing that he had been watching her since the moment she had entered the Populaire. 

He had known Marie was there within moments of her having set foot inside his domain. Since the managers had given everyone time off to do as they pleased, many had left to pursue their own interests. There had been a rather empty feel to the place, and the sound of footsteps had caught his attention quickly. He had followed them up to the costume rooms and had just slipped behind the mirror when Marie had begun to look at herself in her angel outfit. Erik had suddenly found his breathing to become labored as he watched Marie turn from side to side, admiring her as she gazed at her own reflection. Did she know how lovely she was in white?

He became so caught in the shameful images his mind was producing that he didn't notice that Marie now stood before him, sans white wings and costume.

"Why can't you love me, Erik?" she asked the mirror in a forlorn voice, as though she could see him through the false glass. "I love you more than you could ever know. Don't you see me?"

'_Of course I see you_,' he wanted to say as his mind drifted towards the numerous times he had spent watching over her and keeping her safe from harm. That had been why Buquet ended up at the end of the Phantom's rope: he had dared to touch Marie more than once in front of the Ghost.

She sighed. "Of course you don't. You only see Christine…beautiful, talented Christine who can sing like and angel and bring your music to life. You don't want a talentless girl like me."

He watched her change into an ensemble that made Erik want to rush into the room and cover up everything she was showing.

It was a red dress, and it exposed more of her chest than he wanted displayed to those of the male half of society. Watching Marie twirl around, the red material swirling around her in a rather enticing manner, and Erik was extremely thankful that she was in a locked room where no one else could see what she was wearing.

"Well, at least now I know I have a bust," he heard her say.

'_Of course she does_!' Not that he had ever looked at that, of course…

"Probably not enough to catch the Phantom's eye," she muttered.

'_It most certainly **is**_.'

She looked down at the fair amount of cleavage that showed over the top of the dress. "Although those might help attract the eyes of other men." Erik swallowed around the lump in his throat as a smile crept its way up to Marie's lips.

"I wonder if I could ask Madame Rose if I could wear this to the Masquerade on New Year's Eve?"

Oh, how he wanted to roar a protest against _that_ idea! But she could not know that he had been watching, that he had heard the words of love that had fallen from her lips, and that he had seen her at both her most angelic and her most ravishing. Suddenly, his pants felt a bit tight…

Silently, Erik stayed behind the mirror and watched her leave the costume room, closing and locking the door behind her. He knew that he could never allow Marie to display herself in such a manner to other men. He could not afford to lose her now, not as he was already losing Christine to that Fop. No, he needed them both to stay with _him_. They were _his_, and he would not let either of them go without a fight! Raoul and the men that Marie was hoping to attract would find a deadly foe in the form of the Phantom. All he needed was a plan to get both girls back to the Populaire…

Turning, Erik stalked back to his underground cavern, a plan forming in the back of his mind.

* * *

AN: Up next: Masquerade! It should be fun! **_Review_**! 


	14. Masquerade!

Disclaimer: All things tied to the musical/book Phantom of the Opera are (regretfully) not mine.

AN: It's Masquerade time! I love this scene so much that I'm going to make it longer than normal so that I can fit everything in. I can only hope that I do the scene justice! Also, for a better idea of Marie's costume, it's the same glorious white gown in the movie **_Ever After_**, staring Drew Barrymore. If you've never seen it, e-mail me and I can point you in the right direction, or you can Google the movie and find pictures of it for yourself. Enjoy the chapter!

**Chapter 14: Masquerade!**

'_I swear that if I spend another day in this house, I will go mad_,' Marie thought to herself as she lay on her bed, glaring at the ceiling.

Christine was out with Raoul, seeing the sights of Paris as only a young woman in love could. She had asked Marie to join her, but the older girl knew that she would only be in the way. Instead, Marie has simply smiled and shooed the two lovers out the door. Now she truly wished that she had gone.

"At least I would be out of the house," she muttered to herself.

Well, she could always go shopping for an outfit for the annual New Year's Masquerade in two weeks, but she knew it would be a hopeless cause. Most, if not all, of the costumes in Paris had already been purchased weeks ago; anything left would merely be an inferior copy of something already sold, or something drab that would cause the wearer to be the center of public teasing. No, shopping was out of the question.

'_Besides, Christine has a costume already_. _In fact, both she and Raoul had ordered it for her so that they would compliment on another at the Ball_!'

It had been rather depressing for Marie to learn that Christine had done such a shopping trip without her. A month ago, Raoul had offered to buy costumes for both of the young Daae sisters, which had caused the both of them to squeal in delight. Marie had then begun planning a day for both her and Christine to go look for outfits, but before she could propose a date for them to shop, Christine and Raoul had walked into the house with giant smiles on their faces. They had immediately told her that they had just purchased their costumes for the Masquerade, a disappointing blow to Marie's expectant heart. She had so wanted to do something fun with her sister, but now that would never happen. Never before had the two girls shopped for such splendid outfits for any event; it would have been the first time both of them had ever gone to the Masquerade, and now Marie would have to miss attending it because she had no costume.

'_I believe that I just won't go_,' she thought, nodding to herself. '_Yes, I think I'll just stay home_. _Lots of girls will be going with escorts, and I would look like a complete fool if I were to go alone_.' Marie frowned. '_Well, there might be **some** men who will go alone, but then, there are probably **reasons** why they are alone in the first place_.'

It would indeed look foolish to go to the Masquerade alone, especially when a girl's younger sister is attending with a handsome young suitor of her own. The last thing that Marie wanted was to be the laughingstock of the Ball, and she refused to let herself be the end of every joke in the Populaire once the event was over. It would be best if she merely stayed home and read a good book. Besides, from all of the stories that she heard from Madame Giry, all of the Masquerades were the same, from the dances to the music. Apparently she was not going to be missing much by not attending.

'_In what possible way could this one be different from its predecessors_?' Marie thought to herself, closing her eyes for a quick nap.

* * *

Letting out a groan of frustration, Erik leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He had been working relentlessly on his plan for the Masquerade next week, and there was still much to be done. The work he had ordered was supposedly almost finished, but he wanted it done tonight so that he could be sure that part of his plan was ready. Meanwhile, the key part of his idea was in his lap, the deep red color of the fabric resembling a pool of blood. 

He laughed to himself. '_**This** should catch everyone's attention_,' he thought, grinning wickedly. '_Every year those fools from above show up in black, white, or gold. Heaven forbid that they show up in any other color_! _Perhaps they are colorblind_…'

From his hidden passageways and ceiling views of the ballroom, Erik had witnessed many Masquerades, but never attended. Even though the unmasking was at midnight, many people tended to be a tad too curious about the masks others were wearing, and wanted to closely inspect the elaborate designs on the masks of their friends or dance partners. Thus, Erik had always observed, never daring to participate in case he encountered such a curious dance partner.

This year would be different. Now Erik had something to lose in the coming of the New Year. He would risk everything to get what he wanted, and what he wanted came in the form of a young woman with brown hair and an angelic smile, as well as a heavenly, delicious presence.

"I cannot lose that," he growled. "I _will not_ lose that!"

With that, Erik returned to putting the last stitches on his costume for the Ball.

* * *

"Isn't it lovely?" Christine said, her voice soft and slightly breathless as she twirled around. 

"It most certainly is," Marie replied as she watched her sister play 'dress-up' with her Masquerade costume.

It might have been Marie's hatred of the horrible pale pink color that took all of the enthusiasm out of watching her sister dress herself for the evening's event. Although, in her opinion, Christine would have looked much better in a pale blue gown than a fluffy pink one. But as long as she was happy, Marie decided to put aside her distaste and help her sister prepare for the evening. Motioning towards the large vanity, Marie watched her sister carefully sit down so as not to ruin the expensive materials she wore. 

"I truly wish that you were going, Marie," Christine said, moving her head around towards her sister as Marie began to pin back numerous curls of her hair.

"Stop fidgeting, Christine!" Marie gently scolded her, grasping her sister's head and positioning it so that she could manage it. "Let me work! Honestly, the last thing you need is for your hair to flop into your face while you dance!"

Christine let out a small giggle, but quickly sobered. "But why aren't you going?" she pressed, staring at her sister through their reflections in the vanity mirror. "I'm sure that Raoul could easily find you a costume for you to wear in one of the shops."

Marie sighed as she pinned up another brown curl. "The stores won't be open at this hour on New Year's Eve, much less have decent costumes," she said before adjusting a bobby pin with her teeth so that it would hold Christine's hair better. "And don't you worry about me; I've missed plenty of Masquerades before, so it won't bother me now."

The brown hair in front of her turned around once more. "But I want you to go," Christine whispered, a pleading tone in her voice. "It doesn't seem right for me to attend and you to stay here all alone."

The older girl sighed again as she turned her sister's head towards the vanity. "I won't be alone, silly girl," she teased, sticking another hairpin into place. "The servants will be here, and I doubt that you'll be thinking of me when you are dancing with Raoul."

Taking her eyes off of the mass of hair in front of her, Marie looked at the mirror and smiled as Christine blushed and looked down at her lap. As the last stray curl was carefully put into place, a small, cool rush of jealousy shot through Marie's heart. Her sister looked absolutely sweet and charming in her pink gown. A pink silk rose was attached to her right hip, and the whole thing was covered in an airy pink lace that seemed to float around her like a cloud.

"There, all finished." Marie gave her sister's shoulders a gentle pat and handed her the gold chain that she had taken off earlier. A lovely, sparkling ring hung from it, catching the light. "Don't forget to wear this. After all, Raoul braved a great deal of nervousness to ask for my blessing so that he could propose to you."

Christine smiled and stood up. "Are you sure you don't want to go?" she pleaded.

Before Marie could say anything, a bell rang, signaling the arrival of a visitor. Curious, the two young women went downstairs, arriving just as the housekeeper was walking towards the stairs with a large package in her arms.

"It's for you, Mademoiselle Marie," the elderly woman said.

Rushing forward, Marie looked surprised as two large packages were pushed into her arms. Glancing at the address, she was shocked to see her name there in a neat, somewhat familiar scrawl.

"What is it?" Christine asked, leaning forward as they rushed into the parlor room.

"I…I don't know." Puzzled, Marie tore past wrapping of the smaller wooden box, and gasped.

A glorious silvery-white gown glistened up at her. It was simply the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life, and likely the most expensive as well. Taking it out of the box, Marie shook it out to get a better look at it.

The dress appeared to be made with two layers, the underskirt made of an almost glowing white material that resembled silk. The overlaying skirt consisted of so many pearls and silver stitched designs that Marie felt pity for the person who had constructed such a work of art. Flowery motifs in silver thread, tiny seed pearls, and tiny feathers were elegantly and masterfully fastened to the bodice. Hanging down from the glistening bodice fell two oversheets of shimmering silver silk that looked as though it were made from water. The sleeves held a combination of the water-like silver material, gold silk, gold thread designs, larger pearls, and silver thread.

"Oh, Marie!" Christine gasped. "It's absolutely…"

"Perfect," Marie whispered, pressing it against her body. Without even thinking about it, Marie rushed up the stairs to her room in order to put the dress on, Christine and the housekeeper only a step behind her, the remains of the first package (and the unopened second one) in their arms.

Lacing up the front of the corset, the dress fit perfectly, almost as though it were made for her. The material of the underskirt slid wonderfully over her skin, like a gentle caress or the touch of a warm, spring rain. As she emerged from behind the changing screen, Marie saw that there was even more to her costume than merely the dress. A pair of white wings edged in thin silver wire would slip carefully into the back of the bodice. Quickly, the housekeeper put the wings in place, the white netting and silver wire materials that created it so light that Marie could barely feel they were there.

Turning around, Marie allowed the housekeeper to powder her face, apply make up, and pull her hair back into a braided halo-like crown on the top of her head. Once that was finished, she saw Christine approach her, a small white mask edged in gold paint and seed pearls in her hands. Placing the mask on her face, Marie threw her head back and laughed, fully ready for the evening's events.

"Dear God, the Lord has sent an angel to my home!" came a familiar male voice from the door.

"No, just me," Marie replied to Raoul's stunned face. "And if we do not hurry, we will be late to the Ball."

Nodding in spite of his shock, the Vicompt offered his arms to both sisters, feeling extremely honored to have two beautiful women to escort to the Masquerade that night.

* * *

Never had Marie seen the Populaire look so alive and festive. She had seen it on countless opening nights where opera patrons had come in their splendid garb, but never had she seen such elegance or such a magnificent spectacle of costumes, masks, and beauty. It was, in short, breathtaking. 

Raoul and Christine had entered through a side door, but Marie was forced to appear through the front, due to her wings. Much activity had stopped upon her appearance, and she was sure her cheeks had turned a deep crimson from all of the attention. However, since no one knew who she was, Marie was free to smile and curtsy to the crowd using all of the grace that she possessed. The partygoers had applauded her for a rather long moment before returning to their previous endeavors.

Looking around the room, Marie tried to guess what everyone else was. Satyrs, sultans, queen of hearts, beasts; there was even a woman dressed as a life-sized doll. The contrasts of black, white, silver, gold, and pale blues all swirled together in a majestic festival of gaiety that was positively giddying to the senses. It was then that she felt a drink might settle her mind a little.

As she approached the beverage table, Marie spotted Madame Giry and Meg off to the side. Quickly fetching herself a drink of champagne, Marie had walked over and surprised them both by smiling and congratulating Meg on her rather revealing white outfit. The young blond had squinted her eyes to try and guess who this Angel was, and straightened in surprise at the familiar voice.

"My goodness, Marie, you look _sensational_!" Meg gasped, reaching out to touch the delicate silks and precious materials. "Wherever did you get that?"

"It was delivered to Vicompt's home an hour ago," Marie replied, smiling like an excited child. "I don't know who sent it, but I would not put it past Raoul to purchase such a thing."

"And spend more on you than he would on his Christine?" Madame Giry said in disbelief. "I highly doubt that!"

"Perhaps he was trying to bribe you into approving his courtship of Christine," Meg guessed, a white-gloved hand still stroking the hem of Marie's gown.

A suspicious look had then settled over the ballet mistress's face, her eyes going cold and calculating as she studied the gown and wings her eldest foster daughter wore. The look Madame had in her eyes rather frightened Marie, and she shifted uncomfortably under the older woman's gaze. Finally, the moment passed, though Madame never lost the look of suspicion the remainder of the time she spoke with Marie.

Now, however, Marie stood beside her sister and future brother-in-law, watching the crowd sing and dance to the traditional Masquerade song they performed at each Bal Masque. How she wished to join them, but the white wings she wore would not allow such a thing. Instead, Marie watched as silver fans were produced, and she giggling in amusement as even Madame Giry joined in on the festivities. It was a glorious spectacle.

Then, a sudden cold wind blew through the hall, extinguishing many candles and casting shadows into a place that had once held golden light. The figures stopped dancing, the song halting in mid-sentence as a few partygoers gasped from the top of the stairway grand entrance. And a grand entrance it was, for there at the top of the marble steps stood the Red Death itself…and Marie knew who it was behind the mask.

The Phantom of the Opera descended on the crowd, clearing a path before and after him. Clad in red velvet with gold embroidery, black leather knee-high boots, and a trailing cape of red silk, the entire ensemble gave him an air of elegance that toppled what the other men here had tried to achieve. A disturbingly real Death's mask covered his face from mouth to hair, the skin around his eyes painted black to intimidate all he gazed upon. All this combined with a skull-headed sword on a black leather belt assured that he was breathtakingly handsome…and frightening. Marie could feel the fear, nervousness, and awe in the air as all eyes focused on the tall man in red, standing on the last step of the white marble stairway. Marie's breathing became shallow as his eyes scanned the crowd, seemingly searching for something…or someone…

"_Why so silent good Monsieurs?_" asked Erik in song. "_Did you think that I had left you for good?_" He snorted. "_Have you missed me, good monsieurs? I have written you an opera! Here I bring the finished score: Don Juan Triumphant!_"

Marie watched as a black leather folder was dropped onto the floor the moment Erik unsheathed his sword. '_My God, he looks magnificent_!' she thought, wishing that he would think the same of her.

"_Fondest greetings to you all_!" he sang sarcastically, casting a wary but stern glance around the silent room. "_A few instructions just before rehearsal starts: Carlotta must be taught to **act**, not her normal trick of strutting around the stage_!" The Diva looked insulted as he ruffled the feathers of her turban that she wore with his sword. When Piangi stepped forward to defend his beloved costar, the Phantom turned his weapon on him. "_And our Don Juan must lose some weight. It's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age_."

Monsieurs Andre and Firmin then became the focus on the Ghost's displeasure. The sword came within inches of each of their noses. "_And my managers must learn that their place is in an _office_, not the arts!_"

Intense green eyes suddenly landed on Marie and Christine, who had reached out and grabbed her older sister's hand in fear. Raoul had fled, likely to retrieve a sword so that he may defend the two sisters from the awe-inspiring man before them.

"_As for our star, Miss Christine Daaé...No doubt she'll do her best. It's true her voice is good. She knows, though, should she wish to excel she has much still to learn. If pride will let her return to me, her teacher, her teacher_..."

The Phantom's words faded off as his eyes suddenly descended on Marie. His breathing seemed to become unusually labored as he took in the sight of two elegantly dressed young women standing next to one another, huddled together under his gaze. Then, his masked face turned to rage as he saw the Vicompt approach, a sword in hand, prepared to defend the two Daae sisters. Reaching out, the Phantom snatched the necklace from Christine's neck, breaking the chain as his hand pulled away the precious diamond engagement ring.

"Your chains are still mine! You belong to _me_!" the Phantom roared, the dark holes of his mask focused on the two girls.

Without warning, a whirlwind of flame burst from the ground, encompassing the red-clad Ghost as he vanished from sight. Marie gave a cry of worry as she rushed towards the spot he had just stood, praying that he had not hurt himself in this stunt. There she saw a perfect square in the marble floor, one of the many trapdoors within the building telling his means of escape. Raoul flew by her and down through the opening, the entrance snapping shut even as Christine cried out her fiancé's name.

There was a brief hush in the ballroom as the party attendees began to fully realize what had just happened. The bells of the clocks striking midnight were the only sound in the silence.

* * *

The foolish boy! How dare he play the gallant hero, griping his sword and following the Opera Ghost into his haven! At least they had both ended in the Hall of Mirrors; only a three people know how to get out of here, and Erik was one of them. Marie was the second, and she would likely be far too frightened and confused to come after the Vicompt. The other… 

"Where are you, you monster?" cried the Vicompt, his weapon ready for attack.

Erik merely gave a dark chuckle and moved to appear behind the confused and angry nobleman. Sure enough, the Vicompt twirled around, but found nothing behind him but empty air. The Phantom laughed, enjoying this new game that the Vicompt had unknowingly thrown himself into. He continued this game of cat-and-mouse until a familiar arm reached out and snatched the young man out of the mirrored trap.

"Giry!" Erik quietly snapped to himself. The older woman always had to spoil his fun!

On the other hand, this little intervention of hers might just be a blessing in disguise. There was still a small matter he had yet to deal with, and she would not likely have left the ballroom without knowing the safety of the precious Vicompt.

Smirking, the Phantom swirled his red cape behind him and stalked down the dark corridor.

* * *

The Masquerade was over, but Marie and Christine remained behind, searching for Raoul and praying that he was alive and well. Madame Giry had mysteriously rushed from the room, but Marie was too busy comforting her trembling sister to go after her and discover what was going on. Instead, she turned Christine's attention back to the Bal Masque and it's conclusion. The managers had insisted on ending the party the traditional way, and everyone had removed their masks, much to the delight and relief of the people surrounding them. 

Many young men had been amazed at seeing Marie Daae with her sister, and had been astonished to see how absolutely wonderful she looked in her costume. Several had offered their names, occupations, and connections in society to the young woman, who knew they were only doing so after seeing Christine on the arm of the Vicompt de Chagny. However, she was sure one or two of them were truly interested in her, a fact that actually made her blush. Tonight, Marie had felt as pretty as her sister, and before Erik's appearance, she felt like she was glowing from the feeling it gave her.

Now, though, there was no one left but Marie, Christine, the managers, and Meg Giry, all of them pacing the floor or fidgeting nervously around the room. Impatient with waiting, Marie excused herself and went to the power room to see if she looked as pale and ill as she felt. Arriving in the small room, Marie removed her mask and examined herself.

She was pale, but it was due to the shimmering glittery makeup that the housekeeper had applied as she was rushing out the door. Other than that, she looked perfectly fine; her hair was still bound up, not a hair out of place, and not a bit of her facial powder was smudged.

"I wish that I looked like this all the time," she said aloud, knowing that no one could hear her. "Erik looked impressed, but he was likely thinking of how lovely Christine was in her pink gown." Tears materialized in her eyes.

"I'm not sure how much more of this I can take," she said, looking at her face in the mirror. "He loves her, but I love _him_ and can never have him! What have **_I_** to offer to Phantom of the Opera? He's an artistic genius, and Christine is a woman with the voice and face of an angel!"

Pulling out a handkerchief, Marie began to lightly dab away her tears before the ruined her makeup. Taking a deep breath, Marie made a choice that she had been considering for weeks.

"I will not stand by and watch the man I love try and woo my sister," she said, pulling her shoulders back "I will leave the Populaire and accept a position as a nursemaid to a family connected to the de Chagny's." Raoul had brought the offer to her weeks ago, hoping to get her away from the Opera House and it's Ghost. "I will become a nursemaid for their children and make a good living and name for myself. If Erik succeeds in winning her away from Raoul, he will wed Christine. If not…" Marie snorted in contempt. "Well, being the attractive man that he is, how can he _not_ succeed?"

Turning around Marie walked out of the room, hoping that Raoul had returned, safe and sound.

* * *

Erik clutched his chest, sure that it was breaking. Christine had rushed to the side of her beloved Vicompt and kissed him repeatedly, practically crying at the thought of him being hurt. Not only that, but Marie was leaving the Populaire to become, of all things, a _nursemaid_ for a nobleman's spoiled brats! The thought of all this happening so quickly disgusted him, twisting his heart and stomach into knots. Things were spinning too wildly out of his control, and he needed to do something. 

Several ideas began to form, but only one in particular stayed focused in his mind. It was risky, but it would likely succeed better than all the others he had come up with. Christine and Marie would not likely forgive him, but then…it was easier to beg for forgiveness than it was to ask for permission…

* * *

AN: The story is coming to a close soon, people! Only a few more chapters and then this story is over! I've got some ideas for future fics, mostly Erik/OC, so stay tuned for more! **_Review_**! 


	15. The Cemetery

Disclaimer: I (regretfully) own nothing Phantom. Leroux, Webber, and Kay all own it…lucky stiffs.

AN: I altered this scene at the cemetery a bit to fit my own purposes; I hope that it doesn't offend anyone. Remember, there are only a few more chapters before this story is over, so please let me know how I'm doing before it's too late for me to improve! Though I'd very much like to thank all those who have left reviews, it means so much to me! Also, I'm considering writing a sequel to this fic, but I'm not sure yet. I've got a few ideas for other stories, but there _might_ be room for a sequel.

**Chapter 15: The Cemetery**:

The two Daae sisters had been in a trance after returning to the de Chagny home, the joys of the evening forgotten. Christine had been escorted up to her room by Marie, who had helped her undress and tucked her in, kissing her goodnight after humming a favorite tune of theirs from childhood. Once she was alone in her room, Marie had slipped out of her costume and crawled into bed, wrapping the blue sheets around her as her eyes drifted shut, her body slightly trembling in nerves.

The next morning, Marie made a decision: she desired to return to her home in the Opera House. She could no longer stand living on the generosity of Raoul's family, and needed to be there for the preparations for _Don Juan_. She was ready to let Christine remain at the de Chagny residence, but after hearing Marie's choice, Christine wouldn't hear of it; she, too, missed the place she had grown up in, and nothing Marie or Raoul could say could convince her to dwell in the safety of the mansion.

Within a week, the Daae's were comfortably situated in their old rooms, returning to life there as though they had never left it. The dancers were thrilled to have Marie back as their confidant and 'older sister', and the older girls all wanted to flutter around Christine and gossip about the Phantom and his new commands regarding the new opera, _Don Juan_. Madame Giry did her best to distract the ballerinas from their favored topic of conversation, but they continued to whisper about it behind the back of the ballet mistress.

Marie quickly settled back into her usual rolls as caregiver to the small ballet rats and assistant to the costume mistress. She helped pick out red and black materials of silk and velvet for Spanish flamenco dresses for the dancers, assisted the ballerinas with their dramatic dances, and helped comfort the girls who did not receive a choice spot in the latest opera production. Everything appeared to be the same as it had been before, though with one significant difference…

Although Madame Giry refused to treat the Daae's situation with the Phantom as something unusual, many others acted in strange ways whenever Marie or Christine passed by. Whisperings of the Ghost's love for the young soprano filled the corners of the Populaire, talk which ceased whenever one of the Daae girls passed by. Some of the cast and crew who had been merely distant acquaintances of the girls now avoided them, fearing the wrath of the Phantom if he discovered someone near "his" soprano or her sister. The whole thing hurt both sisters, who felt as though those they trusted were abandoning them in their time of need.

"Nonsense!" Madame Giry had snapped when Christine had brought the subject up one evening, after one of the female set painters had refused to talk to her after rehearsal. "You're are being silly!"

However, Marie knew that Madame was just as disturbed as anyone else. The ballet mistress had begun to look more worried for her and Christine than she ever had before. Although Meg was also a concern of hers, the blonde girl was not the center of the Phantom's attention! For both mornings and evenings, Madame required both Marie and Christine to travel to and from their destinations either with her or with several others, for safety purposes. Marie had even been ordered to move into the Prima Donna's suite with Christine so that neither one slept alone at night. All of this the two young women bore, Marie with the mature temperament of an elder sister and Christine with a fearful expression continuously on her innocent face.

With Christine in a nearly panicked and frightened state of mind, Marie was called upon constantly to calm her down and make sure that the young singer was composed while performing onstage. During the first day, however, Marie had been utterly disgusted with what was required of the singers. Don Juan was supposed to be tall, handsome, and seductive, his hands constantly touching the lovely Gypsy girl Aminta in a delightfully sensual way. Signor Piangi was the complete opposite of what Don Juan was supposed to be, and after the first day of rehearsal, everyone could see why.

Small of stature (for a man), fat, and greasy, the lead tenor looked like he was pawing at Christine whenever they were onstage singing together. The whole seduction of Aminta looked as though an inexperienced boy was attempting to woo a woman far above him in appearance and behavior! Merely watching the spectacle made Marie want to vomit every time she watched them.

After spending weeks of watching her sister being groped by Piangi, Marie had had enough. She had spent an entire week voicing her complaints to the managers, Madame Giry, and Raoul about the whole thing, but to no avail. Despite all her protests, no one wanted to switch the lead male singers, and Marie thought that her sister was doomed to spend the entire performance with an incompetent costar putting his hands on her every day until the whole thing was over.

Incredibly, as though the Powers Above had heard her prayers, Signor Piangi was dismissed from his roll as Don Juan after Meg Giry had come racing into rehearsal, a wide smile on her lips. Following behind her was a young man with black hair and incredible blue eyes, as well as a puzzled expression on his face. Meg had introduced him as Pierre, and asked that they hear Pierre sing a small section from _Don Juan_. She was granted the request.

After hearing the young man sing a few lyrics from the opera, the mangers couldn't get enough of him. Piangi was immediately dismissed from his position, a sour expression on his face as he slammed the door of the Populaire behind him. Carlotta had attempted to get her lover back into Firmin and Andre's good graces, but since she was no longer an influential Opera diva, her attempts failed. Pierre became the new Opera House tenor, and the new romantic target of every ballerina, though he apparently only had eyes for Meg.

Now, watching the much more talented young man perform with Christine, Marie felt a small bit of happiness mixed with apprehension. She sincerely hoped that Erik would not be upset with the new tenor, but she doubted he would be displeased; after all, he hadn't liked Piangi at all, and had desired a new male lead in the Opera House for over five years! Still, it was probably best that Madame Giry already kept a sharp eye on Pierre, even if it was likely because he was interested in Meg…

As the Populaire's cast and crew went fearfully about their business of performing the Phantom's opera, they could not help but wonder what sort of plots were being conceived in the mind of the masked genius.

* * *

It was tradition for Marie and Christine to visit their father's gravesite whenever they were facing troubled times, or when they missed him tremendously. Thankfully, Gustave Daae had asked to be buried in Paris, France, alongside his lovely wife, and had set aside a fair amount of money to finance the transport of his body to Paris, as well as to pay for an elaborate family tomb. 

Unfortunately, many problems had arisen that delayed the building of the tomb, causing both Gustave and Laurette Daae to lay in ordinary soil for well over ten years. The elaborate resting place of the Daae's had just been completed after Marie's 17th birthday, and had since become a favored place of both sisters to visit when they needed solitude from the noise of the Opera House. Today just happened to be one of those days, and with Erik possibly lurking around in the darkness, Marie deemed it a good idea to go and visit their father's resting place. The problem was avoiding both the Ghost and Raoul. Lately, the Vicompt had personally taken the responsibility of protecting his future bride and sister-in-law. He escorted Christine everywhere (jokingly declaring that no Ghost would dare tangle with the formidable Marie Daae), and slept outside the girls' room with a sword at his hip.

In Marie's opinion, it was rather silly of him to do this, considering she was sleeping in the same room with Christine, but Raoul insisted that he was protecting them both from harm and refused to give up his post to the local police. Fortunately, Raoul was a fairly sound sleeper, and the Marie could get around him most of the time if she or Christine needed something in the middle of the night.

Finally, a month before the performance of Don Juan was to be shown, Marie had had enough of being looked after. Gathering a handful of coins, she slipped past the sleeping Vicompt and out a side door, catching a carriage and depositing the money into his palms.

"The Daae gravesite, in ten minutes," she ordered. The driver, still a bit sleepy in the pre-dawn light, merely nodded as the girl vanished back inside the Populaire.

Sneaking back into the diva's dressing room, Marie went to her sister's side and shook her awake. Christine blinked her blue-gray eyes, but obediently followed Marie's hand signals to get dressed and follow her. In moments, they were in the carriage, heading towards where their parents rested.

"For goodness sakes, Christine, put up your hood!" Marie gently chided as she reached over and pulled at her sister's cloak. "You'll catch cold in this winter weather!"

Christine pouted, but put up with her sister's fussing. In truth, the younger girl rather liked having her sister's attention, and would do anything to make her happy. As the two rode ever closer to the graveyard, they made idle conversation about everything, from the opera to the ballerinas. Both were relieved to arrive at their destination, with Marie jumping out first so that she could help Christine, who was wearing the wrong sort of shoes for snow and ice.

"Now, Christine," Marie said, using her '_Older Sister_' voice. "Go straight to visit Mama and Papa, but _no wandering_! Do you understand? I will wait here with the driver so that we can go straight back to the Populaire when you are finished."

"Aren't you coming?" Christine asked, her eyes going wide with confusion.

Marie smiled. "No, you need to see them more than I do. Just say 'hello' to them for me, and tell them how much I love and miss them."

Christine nodded and left, disappearing through the tall forest of granite gravestones and iron gates. A few moments of silence passed before Marie turned around…

And faced the Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

"Erik!" Marie gasped before a gloved hand was over her mouth. 

"Do not scream, _petite_," he whispered, glancing towards the gate that Christine had walked through, fearing that they might be discovered. "I mean you no harm." It was true; he would _never_ hurt her…

Marie nodded and stared at him as he removed his gloved hand. "What are you doing here? Where is our driver?" she asked, looking slightly panicked.

"There was no driver. I took his place at the Populaire," he explained, removing his hood.

Her brown eyes narrowed. "So you did this to abduct Christine?" she snapped. For a moment, he could have sworn that there was jealousy mixed with her anger. "You're here to take my sister?"

Erik threw his head back and laughed. "No, my dear," he said, reaching out and gently caressing her face. "I am merely here to…_remind_ her of whom she owes for her talents and new position at my Opera House," he replied, smiling. He was also rather displeased that the two young women had left the safety of the Opera House, alone and unescorted, for the graveyard in the middle of winter. "But if you will excuse me…"

Before she could utter another word, he vanished amidst the graves.

* * *

Oh, how she wanted to go after him, but it was no use; if the Phantom did not want to be found, it would be useless to try and track him. Instead, Marie looked around and waited for his return. In the far distance, she heard singing, first from Christine, then from Erik. 

The sound of his musical voice stabbed her like a thousand ice needles. In her mind and spirit, she wanted Erik to focus his green eyes on her and sing to her as he did to Christine. Marie could count the number of times he had sang to her on one hand; compared to that, he had likely sung more to Christine in one day than he had sung to Marie in the years he had known her…and it hurt.

"It's not fair!" she softly cried, burying her face in her hands and weeping.

Why did Christine have everything? Beauty, talent, and not one, but _two_ men vying for her affections! How could a plain, talentless, older, _foster_ sister compare to such a girl? Returning to the carriage to sit and wait out the situation, Marie was astonished to hear another familiar male voice ring out amongst the headstones.

"Raoul!" she cried, jumping back out of the carriage and racing for her parents' tomb.

She arrived just in time to see Erik lying on the ground, Raoul's sword pointed at his throat, Christine standing behind the young man by the steps of the Daae tomb. The Vicompt was bleeding from a wound on his left arm, but did not appear to notice it. The angry look on both men's faces spoke volumes about their emotions for the wide-eyed young woman that was the center of their world.

"No, Raoul, don't!" Christine cried as the Vicompt twitched his weapon closer to the Phantom's face. "Not like this! _Please_, not like this!"

Reluctantly, Raoul obeyed, pulling back from his enemy though he kept his sword on him at all times. Reaching back with his wounded hand, he protectively grasped Christine's hand when it slipped into his. Not wasting any time, he led her away from the masked man and, unknowingly, from her sister. Once the two were out of sight, Marie rushed to Erik's side.

"Are you alright?" she gasped, looking him over as she knelt beside him, checking for wounds.

He pushed her arms away as he stood up. "I'm fine," he snapped, obviously furious at his defeat by the Vicompt. "Come, we must return to the Opera House."

Hurt, Marie merely followed him as he stalked out of the graveyard.

* * *

The ride back to the Opera House was awkwardly silent. In any other circumstance, Erik would have been thrilled to go horseback riding with Marie, but as it was, he desperately wished that this ride were over. 

When they had returned to the carriage, Erik had unfastened the horse and prepared for it to carry the two of them back. He would have driven her back, but he feared that people would see his face in the daylight, and a "sick" couple riding through town wouldn't likely attract unwanted attention, especially since they could go places on horseback that a carriage could not fit through. So here they were, Marie stiffly seated before him as he directed the tired mare back into Paris.

To keep her from falling, Erik had wrapped a protective arm around her, which, curiously, made her uneasy. It might have to do with her being in love with him and having to be so close to him when she felt he did not return her love…or perhaps it was due to her never been held by a man before.

'_But **you** have held her before_,' whispered a voice in the back of his mind. '_You've danced with her, held her warm body in your arms as you whirled her around the dark coldness of your home_.'

From the depths of his cloak's deep hood, Erik grit his teeth and shoved the voice aside. Now was _not_ the time to delve into memories, particularly those from much happier times. He had more important things to take care of. Unknowingly, he clutched Marie tighter to his chest as they rode through the back streets of Paris and up to the backdoor of the Populaire's stable.

Without another word, Erik slid down from the horse and reached for the precious burden that it carried on its back. As Marie reached down to rest her hands on his shoulders, Erik found a profound sense of…_something_ as she clung to him, her body close to his as he slowly slid her towards the ground. Erik found himself reluctant to release her once her feet touched the smooth stone of the small courtyard, his hands gripping her waist as though he feared she would fall. Suddenly, Marie gave him a small, shy smile.

"I may be needed inside," she whispered, her eyes meeting his. "They must be worried about me, since I did not return earlier."

"Yes," he breathed, his green eyes piercing her brown ones.

Reluctantly, she pulled away from him, quietly walking towards the entrance to the Opera House.

"Angel," he softly called to her, catching her attention. "The opening night of my opera will be one to remember." Marie gave him a puzzled look before she slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

The mare nudged Erik's sleeve, asking for the warmth of the stable and a nice pile of grain. Sighing, Erik stroked her nose and led her inside. Let the stablehands wonder where she had come from; it did not matter. All that mattered was what was to happen in a few weeks' time…

'_And oh, what great events they will be_,' he thought, making his way down into his underground caverns. '_It will certainly be a night to remember, my Angel; one you will never forget_.'

The echo of a dark chuckle trailed behind him, the only sign he had ever been there.

* * *

AN: Creepy, huh? Up next: Raoul's plan to capture the Phantom! Please remember to review! 


	16. Preparations for Disaster

Disclaimer: All things tied to the musical/book Phantom of the Opera are (regretfully) not mine.

AN: Thanks everyone for their flattering and wonderful reviews! I'd love to see this story reach 100 reviews, but I'm just being greedy. (winks) Anyway, enjoy this chapter, and please review! Thanks!

**Chapter 16: Preparations for Disaster**:

Returning to her room, Marie was swept into several tight embraces from loved ones and friends. Christine was in tears, Meg was pale as a sheet and wringing her hands in fear, and Madame Giry looked ready to kill Raoul, who looked extremely ashamed of himself for leaving her behind. All of them began to demand answers of whether she was alright, how she returned to the Opera House, and if the Ghost had harmed her.

Trying not to loose what was left of her small grip on her temper, Marie took a deep calming breath before speaking. Waving her hands for silence, she received it, immensely relieved at the quiet. Once she was sure she had everyone's undivided attention, Marie began to speak in a calm, soothing voice that she normally reserved for the littlest ballerinas.

"I'm alright," she said, trying to appear relaxed despite a pounding headache. "I heard the exchange between Christine, the Phantom, and Raoul. Once I saw that everyone had left, and the Phantom soon gone afterwards in a manner I don't know, I returned to the carriage and unharnessed the horse, making it so I could ride back here to the Populaire."

"Why did you not drive the carriage back?" demanded her foster mother.

Marie gave her a thin smile. "You know perfectly well that I cannot drive a carriage, Madame," she replied. "I've ridden the Populaire's horses before, but have never driven a carriage, and I refuse to put people's lives in danger because I wanted to try a foolish stunt such as that."

Madame nodded in agreement, but looked a bit doubtful. The others, though, appeared to believe her story, and were relieved that she was safe and unharmed. Christine wrapped her in a tight hug, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she babbled on about how happy she was to see her older sister alive and well. Meg fetched a tea tray for her after pressing Marie to sit down on a chair, and Raoul merely stood to Marie's right, slipping into a self-appointed role as her protector.

Once things had settled down and everyone was assured that Marie was relaxed, warm, and content, Madame Giry, Meg, and Raoul left for their rooms for the night. Meanwhile, Christine remained behind to spend the remainder of the day, as well as the night, with her sister. As evening approached, the girls quickly slipped into their nightgowns and sat together, drinking tea near the fire.

"Weren't you frightened, Marie?" Christine asked, looked at her sister with a mixture of awe and curiosity. "You were all alone with the Phantom of the Opera in the cemetery with no one to protect you! Weren't you terrified?"

Marie quietly sipped her tea for a moment before replying. How could she tell her innocent, naïve sister that she, Marie Daae, was in love with the Phantom that everyone feared? How could she explain that people merely feared Erik because they did not know or understand him as she did? Christine would never understand that there was a man with a heartbreaking story behind the frightening white mask; she was too knowledgeable of the tales that had been spread around the Populaire for the past two decades.

So, she decided to bend the truth a little bit, if only for the sake of her sister.

"I really have nothing to fear from the Phantom, Christine," Marie said. "After all, I highly doubt that he'd notice a little costume assistant, right?"

"But if the Phantom is after me, and you are my sister, that means that you are in as much danger as I am!" Christine said, tears running down her face. "And now we must perform his horrid, indecent opera! Oh, Marie, what are we going to do?"

Unfortunately, Marie had no answer for that. Instead, she ushered her sister into bed before joining her in the darkness of sleep without dreams.

* * *

The next morning, the girls raced around the Populaire, doing whatever it was that they were scheduled to do. Christine ran off to rehearsal as Marie was practically dragged to help with the costumes that the mistress hadn't even started on yet. This was because, a week into the _Don Juan_ preparations, Madame Rose had left to help her daughter with her newest baby. Now the costume mistress was back, and the work was piling up, since Madame Rose refused to allow anyone but her design the costumes. Fortunately, the Ghost had left instructions on the making of the outfits, and Marie was able to see what Madame Rose had crafted…and was aghast at what she saw. 

The sketch she had been given was for Christine's character, and it had to be the most revealing piece in the entire show! A corset with little lace straps the width of three fingers hung off the shoulders as "sleeves," and the skirt was to be made of a gold, filmy material that was just thick enough for no one to see through it! Honestly, it was worst than the dancing costumes for _Hannibal_!

'_You cannot be **serious**, Erik_!' Marie thought to herself. '_You actually want **my** little sister to flaunt about a stage in **this**_? _Are you mad_?'

But the truth was, she didn't know if he was or wasn't in his right mind anymore. So much had changed in so little time, and the man she had once considered a caring friend had turned into something much more horrible; he was a masked specter of fear and obsession, a Ghost who remembered nothing of the love Marie had once given to him as a friend, and a denouncer of the love she had for him now as a woman.

"But then, you never told him of your love for him, did you?" Marie scolded herself as she began cutting cloth in her own private sewing room. "Erik will never know how much you care for him, and he will _never_, _ever_ care for you in that way. Stupid girl." With that, she began stitching the costume.

* * *

From a perch high above the stage, beyond the sight of others, the Opera Ghost watched as his opera was brought to life. The costumes were still being stitched together, which was why there was an air of something missing as "Don Juan" sang to everyone about his lust for the lovely, lonely, gypsy flower girl, Aminta. 

'_Still, the boy is good_,' he thought as he watched his creation. '_For a beginner_.'

The new singer, Pierre Desmond, had great potential for one so young. However, since he could be viewed rather as a novice, a new, untrained singer to the scene of the Populaire, he would have to be taught in order to reach the fullness of that potential. But his voice was progressing well for one so new to performing, and with his black hair and sparkling blue eyes, the new lead tenor had looks to go along with his talent. At first glance, Monsieur Desmond's face made him look younger than he really was (at age 20), but a longer look spoke volumes of the young man's dedication to the music that he performed, and his determination at doing his absolute best. He would do very well indeed in his new position here, far better than Piangi had.

The Phantom snorted quietly to himself. '_At least Piangi no longer has the satisfaction of touching Christine the way an oily slug would_,' he thought.

This thought greatly raised the young man in Erik's eyes. Most would think that the misshapen Opera Ghost would be fitfully jealous of the Populaire's new recruit, given Pierre's combination of good looks and talents. Many men would have preferred short, pudgy, thickly-accented Piangi touching the beautiful soprano instead of the tall, attractive Pierre; from any point of view in the audience, the pairing of the young singers created the chemistry that was needed between couples as they performed together onstage.

However, the Phantom could not feel too jealous or angry. He allowed the budding talents of Monsieur Desmond to remain at the Populaire as a way of pleasing both Daae sisters; this way, Christine would not have to suffer onstage with an incompetent, groping costar, and Marie would not have to watch an intolerable man manhandle her sister in front of an audience. This arrangement worked out for the best of everyone's interests, especially those of the managers, the Ghost, and the two sisters.

'_Not to mention for both Madame Giry and her little Meg_,' Erik thought with a smirk as he headed towards the secret corridors.

Indeed, the blonde ballerina had been quite taken with the new tenor, and Madame was practically beaming at the thought of her daughter finally settling down with a nice young man. Both Meg and Pierre were constantly exchanging shy glances and sweet smiles, as well as kisses in every dark corner they could find. Madame Giry attempted to scold them whenever she discovered them together, but most knew it was merely a show to make the couple nervous, possibly in the hopes of scaring Pierre into asking Meg to marry him in a hurry to spare him from Madame's wrath.

'_How amusing…an opera behind an opera_!'

Erik couldn't help but laugh as he descended into the depths of the Opera House, heading towards his house on the lake.

* * *

Marie couldn't help but snicker when she spotted Raoul watching the rehearsals with a deep frown on his face. Apparently the young Vicompt did not like seeing his betrothed being intimately touched onstage by a handsome costar. 

"If you glare any harder, his head will catch fire," she whispered as she leaned over, a hand over her mouth so that the words traveled directly into his ear.

Raoul's frown twitched, almost as if he were trying hard not to smile. "I'm beginning to wish it would," he replied in an equally quiet voice. "That Desmond fellow is really beginning to vex me."

Marie giggled softly. "Honestly, Raoul, who would you rather have touching Christine: Pierre or Piangi?"

The Vicompt rolled his eyes. "If I could give my ideal choice, it would be neither," he said, reaching up to run his fingers through his brown-blond hair. "But I supposed watching Pierre is better than watching Piangi try and…uh…"

"Grope?" Marie suggested with a disgusted look on her face. "Yes, grope would be the right word," she said, cutting off Raoul's response. "Honestly, I would much rather see a nice young man like Pierre onstage with Christine than to watch that slimy pig Piangi touch my sister. At least I know that, unlike Piangi, Pierre has no interest and takes no joy in touching Christine, for his own personal sake. Piangi merely wanted the opportunity of fondling Christine every chance he got, 'to make the opera more believable,' as he said. I knew he just loved touching a young, beautiful girl, though."

"True." Raoul watched as Don Juan and Aminta sang to one another with a deeper scowl of disapproval. "Perhaps I just dislike the fact that we must put on the Phantom's opera or face terrible consequences for disobeying him."

"I don't like it either," Marie replied, but for an entirely different reason than the Vicompt's. "But unless we want something terrible to happen, we must do as he asks."

Her future brother-in-law turned to her. "Then help me stop him," he said, staring into her brown eyes. "Help me protect Christine, protect you, and protect the entire Opera House and its people."

Marie looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "How?"

Raoul looked around the theater. "I'll tell you and Christine later."

Puzzled, Marie returned her attention back to the rehearsal.

* * *

That evening, Marie and Christine joined Raoul for supper at an expensive café. They were shown to a private dining room, where a vast variety of foods were paraded before them and they were allowed to pick and choose from the displayed dishes. When their stomachs were full and dessert had been finished off, the three sat for a few moments, enjoying their after-dinner wine and coffee. Finally, Raoul broke the silence. 

"Marie, Christine, a few days ago, Monsieur Firmin, Monsieur Andre and I formed a plan to be sure that we either capture him or completely destroy any sort of twisted plot that he may have for the opening night of _Don Juan_," the Vicompt stated, looking both young women in the eyes.

"What, exactly, have you come up with?" Marie asked, fear gripping her heart in icy fingers.

"We will have armed guards at every doorway, every entrance, and any other way out of the Opera House," Raoul said, taking a sip of wine before continuing. "The doors will be barred so that no one can leave or enter after the opera starts. If the Phantom appears, we will be able to capture him before he is able to harm anyone and escape. Thereby, we will be able to save the Populaire and possibly many lives before it is too late."

"What must we do?" Christine whispered, her voice timid and full of uncertainty.

"Marie will sit with me in Box 5," he said firmly. "That way I can assure her safety. Meanwhile, Christine will do her best to appear normal while onstage during the performance. Should the Phantom attempt to take you or show his face at any point, you must be able to keep his focus on you or on the performance so that we can capture him."

Marie looked over at her sister and saw her lower lip trembling. "Christine, what's wrong?" she asked, fearful that Raoul had upset her.

"I'm frightened," the younger girl replied, looking down at her lap. "Please don't make me do this. I know he'll take me and won't let me go." Tears began running down Christine's cheeks. "He'll take me and I'll never see either one of you again."

Raoul gave her a comforting smile as he reached over and took her hand in his. "You said he was nothing more than a man," he said, "but we both know that he will likely hunt us both down until the day we die, either by his own hand or otherwise."

Another tear ran down Christine's face. "What other answer can I give? I must put my life at stake in order to live freely, but how can I endanger the man who gave me my voice?" She looked towards her older sister for guidance.

Marie sighed, knowing she had to say something or else come under suspicion. "We have no choice," she softly answered her sister.

"I know I can't refuse," the soprano whispered. "And yet, I wish I could. But what awaits me in performing the Phantom's opera?"

"Christine," Raoul whispered to her as he stroked her hand with his thumb. "Don't think for one moment that I do not consider your life and safety, but our every hope rests on you now."

The two sisters could only look at one another and sigh, a deep sadness and depression filling their hearts at what would happen in a few weeks' time.

* * *

As Marie made her way back to her room that night, many thoughts filled her mind. She desperately wanted to save Erik, but she knew that his obsession with Christine would be dangerous not only for her sister, but also for her own health. He was becoming less and less the man she had known, and had instead turned into the Phantom. 

'_I don't even know if Erik exists anymore_,' she thought, ducking behind her changing screen with her nightgown over her arm. '_All I see now is the Phantom or the Ghost trying everything to get what he wants…whatever that is_.'

In the back of her mind, where the most adult and logical-thinking part of her lay, Marie felt that something was very strange about this whole situation involving Christine. She didn't know what, but something just felt _wrong_ with all of the situations that she had seen between the Phantom/Erik and Christine. Marie couldn't quite put her finger on it, but the thought still lingered.

'_It's almost like he's trying to do or say one thing, but it means something completely different_,' she thought as she slid out of her dress and petticoats and into her blue, silk nightgown. '_I just wish I knew what it was_.'

She smiled as she stroked the dark blue fabric covering her body. Erik had given the garment to her when she had told him how much she loved working with silk, but had nothing fine of her own in that material. He had known her favorite color was blue, and had surprised her with the gift for her 21st birthday. She had hugged and kissed him for it, surprising him so much he had literally frozen in his seat for several minutes in shock.

Sighing, Marie hung her dress over the side of the dressing screen so that it she could take it to Madame for laundry day, and stepped out into the room. She bumped right into a tall male form dressed very finely in the outfit of a man going out to the opera.

"Erik!" she squeaked as his arms slid around her waist to keep her from falling. And he was Erik now, not the Phantom; his posture was calm, and he looked…softer than before.

"Good evening, _petite_," he said, his voice as flowing and smooth as the silk she currently wore. "I see you are wearing the nightgown I gave you."

"Yes," was her only reply, her cheeks turning a bright red from being held so close to him. She nervously swallowed and cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he said, slowly pulling away.

Marie could not help but feel disappointed when Erik removed his arms from around her waist, instead taking her gently by the arm and guiding her to a chair so that they could, apparently, talk. She quickly sat down and adjusted the silk garment as he took a seat across from her.

"What did you want to speak to me about?" she asked, not daring to make eye contact. If she managed to look into his wonderful green eyes, Marie knew that she would likely burst into tears.

"I was hoping that you would be able to tell me your opinion of _Don Juan_," Erik replied, leaning back in his chair, his cloak falling to the floor all around him as he crossed his legs. One arm lay on an armrest while the other was bent, his forefinger resting against his lower lip.

"Oh." Marie swallowed hard when she began to remember how wonderful his lips had always looked to her. "Do you mean the opera, the character, or the performer _playing_ Don Juan?" Her heart skipped a beat as he laughed.

"That is what I love about you, _petite_," Erik said, a smile on his lips as he watched her blush. "You can see all the different ways that one of my questions can be answered. But it's the opera I ask about."

Marie nodded. "It's…well, it is unusual," she carefully replied. "It is a very passionate, seductive opera, likely because it includes the infamous Don Juan and his incredible abilities with women." Erik nodded. "It might be a bit too much by society's standards of music, but once you look past that, it is an amazing work, Erik."

He nodded in satisfaction. "So you think people will be focused on it while it is being performed?"

Marie gave him a tiny smirk. "I don't see how they could _not_ pay attention to the performance."

Erik grinned as he stood up. "Good." And with that, he slipped through a hidden door and was gone.

It was only after he left that Marie realized that she had forgotten to warn Erik about Raoul's plot to capture him. But surely he would be able to escape any sort of capture; after all, he was the Phantom! Besides, she had no way of warning him; she had not been to his home in months, and Erik tended to switch his traps around every few weeks, so there was the risk of her getting hurt while trying to get to him. Still, she owed the man she loved a warning, even if he did not love her in return.

"Well, not in the way I want him to," she said, blowing out the candles and slipping into bed. "He loves things _about_ me, but nothing more…though I very much wish he would." A tear slid down her cheek to splash onto her pillow as she fell asleep, not knowing she was being watched.

* * *

AN: Aw, poor Marie! There are only a few more chapters left, so please review! Thanks! 


	17. Don Juan Triumphant

Disclaimer: I (regretfully) own nothing Phantom. Leroux, Webber, and Kay all own it…lucky stiffs.

AN: At last, Don Juan! I know, I know, it took me long enough, but these things have to be taken in steps. Thanks to all of my reviews for their lovely responses! There will be another chapter or two left before the end of the story, and then I'll have to decide if a sequel is in order. I'm not sure yet. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and please review, if only for Erik's sake!

**Chapter 17: Don Juan Triumphant:**

Marie never got the chance to warn Erik about Raoul's plan to capture him. This was because, as the opening night of _Don Juan_ grew nearer, she found herself constantly watched from the moment she left her room until it was time for bed. Her protector was usually in the form of either Madame Giry or Raoul, both of whom refused to let her go anywhere without someone to keep an eye on her. Even the managers and Madame Rose in the costume department refused to let her go anywhere unescorted. So, like Christine, Marie was forced under constant supervision in case the Phantom tried to torment Christine through her. Every move she made outside of the shared bedroom she slept in with Christine was watched, and every time she stepped outside of the Populaire, it seemed that Madame Giry feared that she would never see Marie alive ever again. Between the watchful eyes of Raoul, Madame, and the managers, the whole experience was slowly driving the young girl mad. It was a constant annoyance, not being able to sit alone somewhere and read a book, or go to buy a treat for herself from the marketplace on a sunny day.

But the hardest part of being under protection was the fact that Marie was unable to warn Erik about the opening night of his opera. She knew that there was a very real chance that he could be killed if he appeared anywhere inside the theater, and it was something that tore her heart in two. She very much wanted him stopped, but then, Marie did not want to see the man that she loved lying dead with a bullet in him. She wanted so much to warn him, but she could never get to him. Christine never left her side once the two of them were in their shared rooms, and there was always someone trailing behind her whenever she set foot anywhere outside her room.

The secret passages were out of the question as well. In the back of her mind, Marie remembered that if Erik did not want to be found, it would never happen. If he wanted her to visit him, or eventually find her way to his cavern, he'd leave a few ways open so that she stumbled into his home. However, if Erik wanted to be alone, then that was what would occur, and there was no possible way that Marie was going to risk her life by going down there. Even if she managed to survive one of Erik's traps, there was no telling when he would check them for survivors. In the end, all Marie could do was go on with her life the best she could, despite having her footsteps shadowed by a trail of protective friends and family members.

Marie's emotions were not the only ones sky-high leading up to the opening night of _Don Juan_. Since the very first day, the opera was progressing at a very steady pace, for which she was exceedingly grateful. However, as with _Swan Lake_, this production was unhindered by any sort of mishaps; nothing was broken, disturbed, or destroyed, and no one was frightened out of their wits by any pranks that usually preceded an opera performance. As expected, many theories and rumors began to circulate.

Some claimed that there was no possible way the Phantom would interfere with the début of his composition, which was why everything was left to turn out the way it did. A few bold cast members said that, if he cared so much about _Don Juan Triumphant_, the Phantom would appear more often in order to be sure that everything would turn out perfect. Their friends and fellow workers, all of whom anxiously hoped that those daring words would not drift to a certain pair of unseen ears, quickly hushed up those cast members and prayed that things turned out perfectly fine.

Unfortunately, as it tends to do in real life, anything that can go wrong usually _will_ go wrong. Dancers missed steps in their routines, Christine and Pierre would forget their lines, and the crew would accidentally put a prop in the wrong place, completely throwing off the flow of the scene being rehearsed. What was worse was that, whenever something like that happened, people would fly into unexpected bouts of crying, angry fits, or outright panic. The managers would then be beside themselves, trying to calm people down enough to finish whatever section of _Don Juan_ they were rehearsing and to assure everyone that everything was going very well.

Throughout all of the anxiety going on backstage, Marie took everything in stride as best she could. She helped the crew with their props, sewed costumes, and did her best to keep the ballet rats from fainting every time something went wrong while onstage or when they overworked themselves. Marie was also responsible for seeing that Christine ate and slept regularly, keeping her sister from growing ill from worrying about the approaching performance.

With all of her responsibilities, it would appear that Marie Daae had many important things to worry about, things that were all based on the need of caring for others. One would assume that the young woman had no fears of her own, that she was so overwhelmed with those of others that nothing could invade her mind or emotions…and they would be wrong. The one and only thing that lurked in her mind as much as he lurked in real life was the Phantom. These days, Erik was never far from her thoughts, especially when the opening night of his opera was fast approaching. She found herself glancing up at the flies, the top of the auditorium, even to Box 5 to see if he was there, watching.

He never was.

After weeks of shooting glances everywhere, hoping to catch a glimpse of him in his fine eveningwear or otherwise, Marie finally gave up. Instead of watching rehearsals, she focused all of her free time and efforts on making the costumes, all which were much more complicated than ever before. In time, over two weeks would go by without her attending a single rehearsal, and for that, she was glad to avoid it and anything having to do with Erik.

Now, three days before the full dress rehearsals, Marie found herself alone in her shared room with Christine, her mind a mixed jumble of thoughts. As always, her mind's eye was filled with images of Erik's numerous forms: him in his green robe, him standing on the flies in his opera attire, him attending the Masquerade in the Red Death costume, and his relaxing, composing form in white shirt and black pants, boots, and without his mask. How a man could be so positively dark and seductive in simply a white shirt and black pants was beyond her, but Erik did it.

Groaning, Marie buried her head, face down, in her pillow. '_And what will he wear to the opening production of his opera_?' she wondered, her thoughts going through a thousand different things Erik could do on that night in three days' time. '_Will I even attend_?'

Ah, that was her main concern. Should she attend the opening night of _Don Juan_, or to stay safely in her room, where she would not have Raoul watching her every move as he tried to protect both her and Christine from the "Phantom's wrath"? For the past several months, Marie had tried to keep her mind off of this thought by spending all of her time running around and trying to sooth everyone's nerves. From the ballet rats to Raoul, Marie had tried to focus on everyone's problems except hers.

'_And now the time has come for me to think about **me**_.'

She bit her lip. Did she really want to see Erik's masterpiece? Well, she had always known that he was a genius and would one day show his music to the world. She had never doubted his ability to write a full opera of his own some day, and had often told him of her faith in him and his musical abilities. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined him writing an opera that was wholly focused on Christine and his love for her!

Tears slid down her cheeks. '_I can't go_,' she thought, taking a deep breath and letting it out into the pillow. '_What woman in her right mind would go to an opera that was written for the sole purpose of wooing her younger sister_?'

No, she should not go. Attending would make her previous months of avoidance of the rehearsals utterly pointless. True, she had watched in the beginning, but that was before she began imagining Erik being the one onstage instead of Pierre. She began seeing Erik as _Don Juan_, glancing at Christine with hypnotic glances and moving in seductive ways to gain the attention of the woman he wanted. It was then that she fully realized the full meaning behind the piece, and her mind took it one step further, almost feeling the passion that Erik was creating for Christine through his music.

After two days of having her imagination run wild, Marie began locking herself in the costume room, trying not to cry onto the expensive costumes she worked on. She did her best to think about anything except the image of Erik and Christine onstage together, singing to one another and involving the powerful, enthralling music to display the Phantom's lust for a particular woman.

'_I won't go_,' she decided, getting up to dry her tears.

After washing her face and brushing her hair, Marie sat in front of the vanity mirror and thought a bit more on the matter. This would be a once in a lifetime opportunity to see Erik's work publicly performed. Could she give up this one chance to see the work of a true musical genius and artist?

'_No, I can't refuse such a chance_,' she thought with a sigh. '_I must go, if only to show my support for Erik's work_.'

That decided, Marie stood up and made her way down to the kitchens for something to eat.

* * *

A person just walking into the Opera House could feel the anxiety of the cast and crew on the opening night of _Don Juan Triumphant_. New attendees of the Populaire claimed that it was just nerves that were experienced before every performance, but everyone else knew their fear came from putting on the work of the Phantom of the Opera.

Backstage, girls nervously glanced over their shoulders as they changed into their costumes, applied their makeup, and took their places on and off stage. Stagehands kept a trained eye on each and every rope, whether it was connected to something or merely lay unused on the ground. The actors were somewhat grateful for the Vicompt providing security, but they knew that, should the Phantom want to appear, he most definitely would, regardless of the armed guards standing at every door. But throughout it all, Marie remained calm and collected as she helped to sooth the nerves of the ballerinas and chorus girls. She gladly gave out hugs, kisses, kind words, or gentle touches on the arm to keep them from panicking.

Christine she handled just as delicately, though with much more care. The young soprano was far more frightened than any of the others, since it was _her_ that the Phantom was primarily focused on. Above all else, Christine feared that the Ghost would take her away from her beloved sister and future husband, and both Marie and Raoul had done their best to sooth her fears. Tonight, guards were positioned at the doors of the diva's room, and when no one had been looking, Marie (using a technique Erik had taught her) had made sure to lock the mirror that led to the secret passageways so that Erik could not sneak in and kidnap Christine. With the performance happening that night, Marie had made sure her sister had eaten, rested, and drank enough water to keep from fainting onstage during the performance. In most cases, Marie had pushed Christine into doing many of these things against her will, hoping to keep her from falling ill due to her fright.

But now the moment had come. The performers and crew were all ready backstage, though many were pale from their frightful imaginings of what could happen that night. The audience members were also nervous, but only a little; most of the opera patrons believed that the whole "Phantom phenomenon" was something cooked up by the managers to sell more tickets. Whatever happened tonight might just prove those people wrong.

* * *

Marie winced as she prepared herself for the evening. She did not have to attend the performance, but she didn't want to miss it, either. The entire opera may have been written for Christine, but if its source was Erik's genius mind, then it might be worth all of the heartache and pain to see it come to life for the first (and likely last) time. Besides, if she watched the performance, Marie knew she would be showing how proud she was of Erik and of how happy she was that he had finally gotten a piece of his work shown to the public eye.

Dabbing a tiny bit of perfume she had secretly snatched from Meg's room, Marie surveyed herself in the mirror. She did not want to dress above her station in life, so she wore a simple red and black dress that Madame Giry and Meg had given her for Christmas that year. A red silk choker with black braiding was around her neck, and her hair was pulled up into an elegant chignon, a few curls hanging gracefully down her neck and at her temples. Altogether, Marie thought she looked quite nice for the evening. Nodding in approval, she quickly ran out the door to watch the performance.

Slipping past the employees of the Populaire, Marie found a niche in the wall from which to watch the opera. Raoul had invited her to stay with him in Box 5, but she did not want to sit in something that belonged to Erik; it would only make her more upset than she already was about the whole situation involving his love for Christine, and cause her to focus on the capture plot that was to be exacted on this night by the police, the managers, and Raoul. No, Box 5 was not where she wanted to be tonight.

Instead, Marie found herself a decent place to observe everything, next to the audience. There was a secret door that led to the depths of the Populaire, a door that only Erik and Marie knew about. Years ago, Erik had shown her the hidden place where he could watch either an opera or spy on other people without being seen. After he had shown her this secret, the two had spent much time spying on people and joking about them as they watched people at their most embarrassing moments. Tonight, Marie would watch _Don Juan_ in its full glory from Erik's own secret space.

'_It's a pity that I had to lie to Christine and Raoul about my not attending_,' she thought as the last member of the audience slid into their seat. '_But it was the only way_.'

Last night, Marie had announced to her sister that she could not be part of the scheme to catch the Phantom. Of course, she could not tell them that she loved the man they wanted to imprison, so she had to do something she hated: she lied. Claiming that it was too dangerous and frightening for her, Marie refused to attend the performance and would instead stay in the safety of her room for the evening. Since everyone else would be watching to see if the Phantom would appear, Marie knew that there would not be anyone to come and look for her.

'_So now I get to stand here and watch a performance from behind a wall_,' she thought to herself, very much wishing that she had brought a chair to sit on and be more comfortable. '_Oh, well_.'

Leaning carefully against the hidden doorframe, Marie focused her eyes on the stage.

* * *

Tonight was the night, the one that would change his life forever. For the memorable event, Erik had certainly dressed for the part. The outfit had been a bit more expensive than usual, but the extra money would be well worth it, if only to see the look on her face when he appeared. Placing his mask on his face, the Phantom drew himself up to his full height and raced above to see how things progressed.

Upon reaching the Opera House, Erik sped through the building, looking for his quarry. One last quick glance told him the information that he needed to know.

'_Perfect_. _She's right where I need her to be_.' Quickly, Erik adjusted his cape so that it would not make any noise and draw attention.

'_Now let my Opera_ _begin_!'

* * *

Marie watched the first half of the performance with a blushing face, her hands pressed against red cheeks that were flushed from embarrassment. Though she was familiar with the goings-on between men and women, and had seen many seductions going on backstage between ballerinas and stagehands, _Don Juan_ took those to whole new heights!

'_I think I need a fan to use during the second half_,' she thought as the curtain went down for intermission.

Racing through the secret passageways back to her old room, Marie snuck through the hidden doorway and went to her vanity, opening drawers in search of the accessory she needed. Finding a red fan with black designs that went well with her dress, she tucked it into a pocket in her gown and ran for the door, hoping to make it back before the second half.

She had just returned to her place when the curtain rose. Drawing in a deep breath, Marie watched as Christine stepped onto the stage.

_**No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy! No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!**_

Marie sighed. This was the best part, the one that held the greatest, most seductive song of the entire opera. '_The one song that I wish Erik would sing to me_,' she thought as she watched Christine kneel onstage.

Suddenly, a gloved hand clamped over her mouth and around her waist. She froze. The touch was familiar, one that she had engraved into her memory after having felt it several times before.

'_Erik_?'

It was her last coherent thought before a gag was slipped around her head and into her mouth, a silky length of rope suddenly weaving itself around her wrists. Firm hands whirled her around before grabbing her and throwing her over a muscular shoulder.

* * *

Marie would not be pleased with him for this treatment, but it was necessary. He _had_ to get her down to the lair before it was too late, or his plan would fail. It _could not_ fail…not tonight. Not if he could help it.

* * *

AN: (cue evil laughter from author) **_Review_**! 


	18. Stranger Than You Dreamt It

Disclaimer: All things tied to the musical/book Phantom of the Opera are (regretfully) not mine.

AN: I know, I was evil for the cliffhanger, but it was still fun. (grins evilly) Anyway, please read the author's note at the end of the chapter; I would post it here, but it would ruin the chapter for you. Also, as this story draws to a close, I thought I'd drop a reminder that sequel is possible, but I'm not sure if anyone will read it. I have other plots in mind, but please let me know if a sequel is what everyone wants. I hear and obey. (bows) Enjoy!

**Chapter 18: Stranger than You Dreamt It**:

Marie didn't know what to think at this point. Had Erik just kidnapped her from the opening night of his opera? Was she really slung over his shoulder like a sack of stolen goods, heading goodness-knows-where?

'_In all likelihood, we're heading towards his home_,' she reasoned to herself, the gag in her mouth preventing her from asking where they were going. '_But why kidnap me_? _What's the point in all of this_? _It makes no sense_!'

Indeed, it did not. Why would Erik take her, when, after all of this time, he had been busy pining for Christine? Was Marie his second choice now that he, in all probability, would never have a chance to romance Christine like he wanted? Was he settling for second best?

'_Yes, like **that's** not a depressing notion_,' Marie thought, tears springing to her eyes. '_The Phantom can't have the woman of his dreams, so he takes her older, plainer, talentless sister_. _My goodness, what an opera this would make_!'

If she wasn't bound and gagged, she would slap him and demand an explanation. If he was settling for her as a second-class replacement for Christine, Marie had every intention of crying her eyes out as soon as she was free and alone.

'_Right after his explanation, of course_.' She closed her eyes. '_And it had better be a damn good one_!'

Knowing Erik, it very well would be.

* * *

The Phantom could not hide the smirk on his face as he descended into the dark caverns beneath the Opera House. The young woman he'd flung over his shoulder occasionally squirmed and made sounds with her throat, but he could not understand her through the gag, which was there for that very purpose. He could not risk them being caught by Madame Giry or that fop, the Vicompt; those two always interfered in everything that he did to try and make himself and (though it seemed otherwise) Marie happy.

'_Well, she may not be happy about this, but I'm sure I can bring a smile to her face later tonight_.'

Giving a loud laugh, Erik walked into the cavern of his home, setting Marie gently on her feet in the middle of the room and shutting the hidden door behind him.

* * *

The sound of Erik's laughter filling the dark cavern suddenly made Marie very nervous about what might happen next. She silently prayed that he would not do something violent, but then remembered that he would never hurt her intentionally. After all, he was her friend…right?

'_So why do I suddenly feel so scared_?' she thought as Erik gently set her on her feet.

While she stood by the organ in the music room, Marie looked down at her bound hands and sighed through her gag. They did not hurt, but were slightly uncomfortable. Her hands were tied in front of her, so she could remove her gag if she wished, but it would probably be best to wait for Erik to do it himself when he was ready to do whatever he was preparing for.

She heard the doorway to the lair close behind them and heard him trigger the special stone slab that would hide the door from anyone who sought the Phantom's home. The sound of footsteps and the gradual illumination of the cave told of Erik lighting candles, for he remembered her dislike of the cold darkness that he lived in while alone. The thought of his consideration for her made Marie smile as he finished his task before coming over to her. Glancing up, the look in his eyes made her gasp.

Brilliant green was set on fire by flecks of gold, seeming to blaze from an inner passion that took her breath away. Time seemed to freeze as Marie stood there, staring at the incredibly handsome man that held her heart. The air of power and confidence was there, but much more powerful than she had ever seen it; the Phantom was in complete control of the situation, and he knew it. Never before had she seen him so tall and frightening. A gloved hand reached out and carefully pulled the ropes from her wrists, as well as removed the gag from her mouth. The movement broke the spell he had on her, and Marie could now see how the Phantom was dressed.

He was entirely dressed in black, except for the crisp white shirt he wore beneath a black silk vest. Black shoes, pants, cummerbund, belt…everything was in black, and he looked positively dashing in all of it. The only things that stood out were the white shirt and the white mask he wore on the right side of his face. His dark hair was perfectly combed back, and an arrogant, seductive smirk pulled at his lips, indicating that he knew how breathtaking he looked.

"Well, my dear?" Erik asked, looking her in the eyes. "Do I meet with your approval?"

"Yes," was all Marie could manage to whisper in reply.

"Good," he said, reaching out and taking her by the hand, giving it a gentle, but insistent, pull.

Following his tall form, Marie did her best not to step on his flowing cape as she trailed along behind him. He led her to a curtained-off alcove that she had always thought empty and was gently pushed inside by a hand on her back.

"Get dressed," Erik whispered as he waved a gloved hand towards the gown hanging on the wall. "Call for me when you are finished." With those words, he closed the curtain.

Startled at the sudden change in Erik's demeanor, Marie turned to examine the dress he had left for her. It was white, and elegantly made. In fact, it sort of resembled a fairytale princess dress that she had once seen in a book. It sported an undergown of shimmering white satin, and white-and-gold gauze-like material fit over an empire waist, the material flowing down over the white satin, creating the illusion of a golden fog. Thin strips of shining gold silk ribbon crisscrossed between the breasts and wrapped around to the back of the dress, the tops of the bodice along the breast also edged in gold ribbon. Elegant, thin gold braiding was sewn where the shoulder of the dress met the sleeves. In short, it was a simple, but beautiful, piece of work.

Wondering why Erik would obtain such a lovely evening gown for her, Marie put it on without questioning him aloud. If he wanted to tell her, he would, and asking questions would get her nowhere if he was unwilling to talk to her. She silently thanked him for not forcing her into a gown that needed a corset, but instead merely needed the laces to be pulled tightly to keep the dress shut and on her. Once dressed, Marie smoothed out the gown and called for Erik, who appeared so quickly she suspected him of waiting just outside the curtain. There was a white blindfold in his hand, and she looked at it with alarm. What exactly did he have in mind?

Erik sighed. "I would never hurt you, _mon petite ange_," he said, reaching out and stroking her face. "It is for your own protection and your own good, I promise." Marie nodded and stood still as Erik wrapped the blindfold across her eyes. Something else was put on top of her head, but she did not know what.

"Now, I am taking you to meet a very special man," he said, gently taking her by the hands once the cloth and other object were in place. "You are to merely nod whenever he is finished asking a question, and that will be all that is required. Do you understand?" She nodded. "Good. Now, let me lead you to him."

Without another word, Marie blindly followed him, his hands gently guiding her through the darkness.

* * *

The slow walk down the passageways was silent, yet full of questions. Erik could feel Marie's puzzlement in the way she gripped his hands and the way she twitched her mouth, but he would not tell her what was happening. He knew that if he told her anything, she would likely run from him or strike him, and that he would not allow. He had gone through a great deal of trouble and money to do this, and he could not afford to have this perfect chance destroyed.

They finally entered the dusty chapel in silence, where a man in a brown robe waited for them, his back turned towards the secret entrance. Erik cleared his throat, surprising the monk, but effectively getting his attention. As he signaled to the man to proceed, Erik tightly grasped Marie's small hands in his own.

* * *

The other man was speaking in Latin, a language Marie could recognize but not understand. Whatever he said sounded important, though, and whenever he finished asking her something, she nodded as Erik had requested. After all, Erik spoke and read Latin, and she trusted him when he told her to do something, especially when it regarded another language she was not familiar with. Oddly enough, Erik held her hands the whole time and clutched them as though he feared she would run off.

The rather one-sided conversation with the stranger was very brief, and before she could fully comprehend what was happening, Erik was kissing her. It was not a friendly kiss by any means, but instead was the passionate kiss she had always dreamed of receiving from him for the past several years. All too soon, it was over, and Erik had her right hand clutched gently, but firmly, in his own.

"Sign this quickly," he whispered into her ear.

Puzzled, Marie did as she was asked, and the sounds of paper being rolled up and coins being dropped into a person's palm reached her ears. Before she could ask anything, the sound of fading footsteps could be heard, and she could feel Erik leading her away from wherever they were standing.

* * *

It had gone as perfectly as he had hoped. No questions, no awkward glances, nothing went against the plan he had so carefully constructed. The precious document they had signed together sat in his pocket, a copy of it going with the monk to be legally filed away. As he led her back to his home, Erik practically yelled with joy as he shut the door behind him and threw the switch to hide them both from the world above.

"Erik?" She called for him…called _to_ him.

"Yes, Angel?" he asked, coming up to stand in front of her and removed the blindfold.

"Erik, what just happened?" Marie looked up into his eyes, her own full of questions and a slight touch of fear.

"The answer is quite simple, my dear."

He could not help but smile as he began to remove his formal clothing, tossing the cloak, cravat, gloves, coat, vest, and cummerbund onto a nearby couch. Carefully reaching out, he caressed her face, savoring the feel of her skin against his. With his other hand, Erik reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of gold rings and slipping them over the ring fingers of their left hands.

"We were just married."

* * *

Marie could only stare into space as Erik removed the wreath of flowers from the top of her head and throw it somewhere beyond her sight. She was pulled back to Earth as his hands slid to the back of her dress, loosening the laces and slipping the garment from her shoulders.

"Erik," she whispered as his arms wrapped around her body and swept her up.

"Shh," he hushed, carrying her into the room with the golden, carved wood bed.

After that, she remembered nothing but intense pleasure and love as they joined together in their wedding bed.

* * *

He could tell it was dawn, even in the darkness of his lair. Ever since his beloved Marie had first joined him down below in his home, Erik had done his best to keep track of time so he could have her back home before Madame Giry discovered she was gone. And it had all been worth it. Now that she was his wife and the center of his world, Erik wanted to see her in the morning light, to see dawn's golden sunshine fall on her as a light from Heaven.

His angel stirred next to him. He knew he had exhausted her the night before with his demands, but from the heated glances he had received in return, he knew she would not be angry with him…or at least, be angry with him for this. Still, Erik knew that he had much to explain to his beloved, things that had likely caused her heartbreak and pain since the day he had first declared his true identity as Christine's Angel of Music.

But he had never loved Christine, or at least, not in the way people thought he did. True, he had done everything in his power to keep the talented young girl at the Opera House, but it had been for her own good. All too often had he seen girls with promising futures go to waste because of them falling in love, getting pregnant out of wedlock, or simply running away when things became too difficult for them. Ballerinas came and went, as had several singers who could have become the new leads, replacing the horrible Carlotta and Piangi.

When he thought back on all he had done to keep Christine at the Populaire, Erik realized how his actions might have appeared to others. While he knew he merely wanted to watch over Christine and protect her from harm, others believed him to be obsessively in love with the beautiful young dancer-turned-singer. True, perhaps once or twice he had _thought_ about her as a romantic interest, but had become sickened at himself even as he had considered it. Though not in body, she was a child in mind and spirit, and she would have been very wrong for him. Marie was far wiser and more experienced in the world. She knew all his secrets and had kept them close to her heart; there could have been no other woman in the world for him after knowing that she cared so much for him. Christine's innocence was endearing, but he needed a woman, one who could love him despite his facial appearance and his need of darkness. Christine could not live with that, he knew that now.

His longing to bring Christine down to his home was so he could show her a magical world that fit her childish innocence. Once she had seen the wonders of his home, he had hoped to convince her to stay so that he could make her a rising star at the Populaire. Unfortunately, Marie had prevented that the night he had planned to do so, convincing her to go to dinner with the Vicompt before he could appear. At first, Erik had been furious that she would even consider Raoul as a proper suitor, but was soon thankful that the boy was as naïve as Christine was. It had become a blessing in disguise, but he had still been angry that he had not been consulted on what was "Christine's own good."

Sending the notes to convince Raoul had been taken the wrong way as well. It had merely been the effort of a father trying to overly-protect his youthful child. Christine knew nothing of love beyond what she had read in Marie's fairytale books, and he feared what would have happened if she had gotten her heart broken by the young nobleman. Also, his notes promoting the young soprano had been in the best interests of _everyone_ of the Populaire. Carlotta was no longer in her prime (if she had ever _had_ a prime), and Christine would have been the perfect replacement to bring in patrons. On the other hand, though he was upset and jealous of the Vicompt, with his wealth, good looks, and charm, the boy was good for Christine and had the ability to provide a good life for her if she decided to leave the Populaire.

'_Not to mention that stunt with Buquet did not help matters for you, either_,' the Phantom thought to himself, clutching Marie closer to his chest as he pictured the horrible stagehand in his mind. In the end, that had been for the good of everyone, but he had primarily done it for Marie. The pig had tried one too many times to touch Marie, and after Erik had discovered the stagehand's never-ending lust for her, he could no longer stand the drunken slob anywhere near the woman he cherished.

And then, to later discover Marie's love for him! Oh, how he had wished to make things up to her, to show how sorry he was for making a mess of things by overly dwelling on Christine instead of her, the woman who loved him so! The result was that he had sent the angel gown and wings in an attempt to prevent Marie from wearing that revealing red costume he had seen her in. She had worn it, and had looked like a true angel from Heaven's gates. The moment he had seen her standing there, practically glowing in the candlelight, Erik had wanted to whisk her away. But the sight of the engagement ring on Christine's neck had triggered the Protector in him once more, and so he had snatched it away to keep his lovely Marie and sweet Christine from being taken away from him.

Holding his sleeping bride closer, Erik sighed. '_All I wanted was to end my solitude_,' he thought, gazing down at Marie. '_I wanted Marie as a wife_. _Christine was to be as a sister or daughter to me, one who would sing my music and make it come to life as she grew to be a star as her sister watched from close by_. _I would have kept both sisters close to one another in so many ways_.'

But he could not have both young women. Christine could not thrive in darkness; she was too fragile for that, and she would have faded away should she live down here. The Vicompt could take her to many places in the light, and all Erik had to offer was the love of a father and mentor, the eternal darkness in his home, and the cage of the Opera House as the only place she would ever experience. Marie would thrive wherever he was, and if it was in the shadows, then so be it. She could live in his darkness, which was why he had written such a passionate and dark opera for her, hoping that she would see the piece as his heart's calling for her. But she hadn't read deeply into the music, only seeing it as a message that he loved Christine. It was then that Erik had realized that he had to take matters into his own hands…and he had.

'_Now she is here with me_,' he thought, feeling her stir in his arms. '_My wife_.' Erik watched in fascination as Marie's eyes fluttered open, her mouth stretching into a small yawn as she woke, the gold ring on her finger sparkling in the light of the candles. '_I will love her until Death takes me from this Earth_.'

"Erik?" His eyes focused on her. "Erik, I…I have a few things I would like to…discuss with you."

"Of course, Angel," he whispered as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Come, I will make breakfast and then we will talk."

* * *

True enough, Erik fixed them a delicious breakfast of sausage and fried vegetables over toast, and a light mint tea. After the two of them had eaten, Marie listened to Erik's explanations pertaining to his actions, as well as the emotions behind them. She could see how anyone, including her, would get the wrong impression from his actions, especially when Erik had very little knowledge on how to act with people. Besides herself, Erik had not had much contact with human kind.

'_Until now, I didn't even know that Madame Giry was doing her best to keep him from me_!'

In fact, the ballet mistress had done her best to keep Erik out of the lives of all three of her daughters, not knowing that the eldest of them was falling in love with the man she sought to protect them from. It was rather amusing to think about.

'_And now we have to tell her about us_.'

The thought made her wince, which in turn brought Erik's attention towards her. Erik's face seemed to fill with concern for her and whatever she was thinking.

"What is it, my love?" he asked, taking her hands in his large ones.

Marie smiled, looking down at their joined hands. Her husband's hands…how many times and for how long had she imagined Erik as her husband, their wedding rings shining in the light of their underground kitchen in their home by the lake?

"I was just thinking…" she said, trailing off as Erik's thumbs began caressing the back of her hands.

"Thinking about what?" he asked, bringing her fingertips to his lips to kiss them.

Marie sighed as his lips met her skin. "I was thinking about what I was going to have to tell everyone about my marrying the Opera Ghost."

Erik simply smiled. "I'm sure we can come up with something," he said, a naughty look on his face.

Marie chuckled as he stood up and swung her into his arms before taking her back into their bedroom.

* * *

AN: I surprised some people, didn't I? Well, that was the whole point, so there. Thanks for reading, and please review!


	19. A Kind of Fairy Tale Ending

Disclaimer: I (regretfully) own nothing Phantom. Leroux, Webber, and Kay all own it…lucky stiffs.

AN: Final chapter! I just hope that people get (or got) the alert for this story being updated, since the website ate all of my reviews and wouldn't e-mail them to me. So, I had to read all of my reviews (or what was posted) by clicking the "reviews" link near the title of my story. **_Anyway_**, yes, this is the end of the story. Sadly, I don't think I can do a sequel to this story right now, but you never know. I think I'll just wait for it to hit me and then write it. Well, keep an eye open for my future works, and I hope to see you all there when I post! Please leave a lovely review for me! Thanks!

**Chapter 19: A Kind of Fairy Tale Ending**:

Waking beside Erik had been a dream of hers for so long that she never expected it to actually happen. But now she was here in his arms, listening to him hum Don Juan's part in _The Point of No Return_ from his opera, _Don Juan_. It was her favorite song, and Marie did all she could to keep her eyes closed, just so she could hear his voice in her ear and feel his breath on her face. It was perfect.

"Are you awake yet, my darling?" his voice asked once the song had finished. She could feel his fingers trace up and down her left shoulder in a gentle caress. "It's time to get up and tell everyone about what has occurred between us." A soft kiss was pressed to her forehead

Marie sighed. "Now?" she murmured as she snuggled closer to him, stroking the warm skin of his bare chest with her hand.

"Well…perhaps it can wait a little longer," he whispered as they fell asleep once more.

* * *

Standing in the middle of the Prima Donna's room, Marie was glad to have had the extra two hours of sleep Erik had allowed her. She had just finished getting a lecture from Christine, Raoul, and Meg, all three having told her it was foolish to have left for so long without telling anyone where she was going or when she would return. Now Madame Giry was settling into the full force of her own speech, and Marie was tired of it. Oh, how she wished she could just run to the wonderful arms of her husband, who stood hidden behind the tall mirror, waiting for her signal.

"Enough!" she snapped, effectively shutting everyone up while gaining their attention. "I left for a perfectly good reason, and that reason was so marry the man I love!" She proved her marriage by showing them her gold wedding band on her finger.

Jaws dropped. Christine looked torn between shock and joy, Raoul was doing a very good impersonation of a surprised fish, and Meg looked like she wanted to hug Marie and wish her congratulations. Madame Giry, however, looked as though she wanted to hurt someone, slowly and painfully.

"And who, may I ask, have you so suddenly wedded without consulting your friends and family?" the ballet mistress asked, her tone cold and demanding. "Were you married against your will?"

Marie knew she had to speak before Madame correctly guessed everything. "It was a surprise marriage for me as well, Madame, for I certainly did not expect the man to return my feelings," she replied. "But it was a wonderful surprise, nonetheless, and I will be happy to introduce him to you." The others nodded and Marie bit back a naughty grin, extremely eager to see their reactions to her husband. She merely smirked as she nodded towards the false mirror positioned on her right, its glass sliding away to allow the tall masked man into the room.

The reactions were expected: Christine cried out in terror as Raoul leapt up in order to protect her, Meg looked as though she were about to stop breathing, and Madame Giry clutched a folded fan in her hands as though to use it as a weapon. Marie simply rolled her eyes at the scene and turned to face Erik. Her husband looked very handsome in his formal opera attire, his silvery, silk vest the only bit of color besides white and black. Watching him in the flickering candlelight, Marie was glad that he was hers and no one else's.

"That's enough!" Erik snapped, his voice so full of power and confidence that he effectively stopped all noise in the room. Once it was silent, he nodded towards Marie.

"Everyone, this is my husband, Erik," she said, reaching out to take his left hand in both of hers. "But you know him best as the Phantom of the Opera or the Opera Ghost. And of course, he already knows all of you." Marie looked up at him and received a sly wink in return, causing her to fall into giggles.

"Marie, explain yourself!" Madame Giry cried, clearly angry with her foster daughter.

Erik pulled a chair out from the vanity and offered it to Marie, who accepted it gladly. It would be a long afternoon, and she had much to explain to them. So, starting at the beginning, she did.

* * *

Hours later, everyone still stood or sat in the diva's dressing room, and Marie's voice was growing hoarse from talking and answering questions. Despite her story and explanations, the others still did not look as though they believed her to be in her right mind. Granted, she had married the Opera Ghost, but the least they could do was try to believe her when she told them that Erik was a decent, caring man and that they loved one another!

"Marie, are you sure about this?" Christine asked, glancing over at the tall, dark man who stood to her sister's right, his hand on his 'wife's' shoulder. "What if he is trying to trick you, to trick all of us?"

Marie sighed. "Christine, despite what you might think about him or believe him capable of, Erik is a good man and would never be false about something such as love and marriage," she said, trying to keep herself from rubbing her temples. "He has had a hard, lonely life, one without much love and comfort, and I am happy and honored that he wants me to be the one to give those to him." She had not told them the details of Erik's past, but had instead given them a brief summary of the torment he had been through because of his facial differences.

Suddenly, Marie felt Erik's hands on her shoulders, massaging them to sooth away the pain forming in her head. Letting out a contented sigh, her eyes drifted half-shut as her husband's talented fingers eased away her headache. Marie felt him brush her neck once or twice in a teasing fashion, causing her to giggle slightly. Opening her eyes, she turned her head to gaze upon the man she loved, who gazed lovingly down at her in return.

* * *

Watching the two newlyweds together, Raoul didn't know what to think about the whole thing. The shock was wearing off, but the disbelief was still there…well, for most people. Madame Giry looked to be softening towards the situation and Meg appeared to be overjoyed at the romance between Marie and her groom. Even Christine looked as though she were becoming happier for her sister with each passing moment!

"I don't believe it," the Vicompt declared, crossing his arms as he stood over his seated fiancée. He turned his attention towards Madame Giry and Meg. "Do you mean to tell me that after all that he's done, from the embezzling to murder he's committed, that you are so willing to forgive and forget and let him marry her?"

Madame merely sighed. "To tell you the truth, monsieur, I am actually very pleased with the situation," she said, surprising everyone. "After all, I am the one who brought him here and helped him live his own life, long before Marie came, and I feel that he has finally achieved that which he deserves."

Moving forward, Antoinette Giry gave Marie a hug and kiss before placing a hand on the Phantom's shoulder. Meg took that as a signal of some sort and leapt forward, throwing herself against the young woman she had long considered an older sibling. Christine, however, remained frozen in her chair.

"Marie…"

Christine's frightened voice stopped all movement in the room. As though sensing her distress, the Phantom/Erik released his wife's shoulders and moved forward at a slow pace, as so as not to upset the young singer that he had inspired and guided. Holding his hands out in a gesture of peace, the Phantom stopped at Christine's feet and knelt before her.

"I know that I have caused you or your sister much fear and pain, Christine," he said in a soothing whisper. "I never meant to cause harm to either of you, and for that, I apologize. But I love Marie. I have loved her for quite some time, but have not admitted that to myself until recently. Until now, I had believed that since she never confessed such feelings for me in the past, she likely never would.

"I was proven wrong by the way she acted when she thought that I loved you instead. So, to prove my true intentions, I wrote _Don Juan_ in the hopes that she would recognize my need for her love, kindness, and humor in my life. She still did not see my feelings, and so I kidnapped her last night in the hopes that she would marry me…and she did."

Here the Phantom smiled, and for once, Raoul believed him to be like other men, capable of and needing love and joy in his life. This man had finally found what he was searching his whole life for: a woman to love him for the man that he was, and the widely known musical genius that he wanted to be. She would be there to support him no matter what happened in their lives, and from the look in her eyes, she would love him the rest of her life.

Nodding, Raoul gave Erik a small, fragile smile, even as Christine did the same.

* * *

For Marie, the next several months were full of joy and love. Erik was quite possibly the most doting husband in the world. He was never satisfied with any gift he gave her until she told him that it was exactly the sort of thing she wanted. If she felt ill or her head ached from too many run-ins with the ballet rats, Erik was there to sooth her pains and worries away with a gentle touch and a glass of her favorite drink. He had even (secretly) moved into a larger bedroom suite with her just so he could be near her!

Then, one day, Erik gave her one of the biggest surprises of her life. Knowing that Marie missed being in the cave by the lake, Erik had decided to escort her down to his former home. There, she was shocked to discover that the entire place was deserted of all of its beauty and comforts. Erik had taken everything out of the underground home!

"But…" she stammered.

"It's in Italy," he explained, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her back up against his body. "In our new Italian villa in Venice."

Marie could only gasp and whirl around to give him a kiss and a hug. "Oh, I've always wanted to go to Italy!" she said. "And living near the Mediterranean will be the perfect place to raise the baby!"

"Baby?" Erik whispered as his wife hugged him tightly and babbled on about decorations and new outfits for the upcoming child.

* * *

After weeks of packing, planning travel arrangements, and saying tearful goodbyes to everyone at the Opera House, Marie Daae (secretly Marie Garnier) stepped into a carriage and waved to her friends. The ballet rats had forced her to promise to visit soon even as Christine had begged her to write at every moment she could spare until Marie and Erik could come to her wedding to Raoul. Meg pouted at not being able to go anywhere exciting, and was upset that her mother was going to accompany Marie all the way to her new home. It also frustrated the young blonde that Madame Giry would remain in Italy not just to be sure Marie was comfortable in her new home, but also to be sure that her child safely arrived in the world.

It was dark when the two women reached the sleeping compartment to which they were assigned on the train. A tall, dark figure in a white mask sat upon one of the red cushioned seats and wrapped Marie in a tight embrace as the train pulled out of the station, taking them away to their new lives.

* * *

"Papa, papa!" cried a small voice, startling the man out of his thoughts.

"Philippe, leave your father be! He needs to finish his work before Aunt Christine and Uncle Raoul arrive with your Christmas gifts!" There was a slight teasing tone to Marie's voice as she scolded her son.

Putting down his pen, Erik Garnier pushed his chair away from his desk and stood up, stretching himself before closing the book in front of him. It was a good tale, one which he hoped his children would love when they were old enough to read it.

"Papa, you promised to play with me!" another voice called through the keyhole in the door.

"I'm coming, Angelique," Erik called back to his daughter, smiling as he walked towards the door.

'_Honestly, who would have thought that having twins would be so difficult_?'

* * *

AN: Well, that's the end! Short but sweet, which is the way it should be. Thanks again to all of those who reviewed my story, and to those who merely read but didn't review…well, there's the little purple button waiting for ya! It's down there. (points) Anyway, I hope to see you all again when I start my next Phantom story, which will be up the moment I've got a lovely plot all thought out. Hope to see you again soon! 


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